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LABOli  AND  LOVE: 


uu 


TALE  OF  ENGLISH  LIFE. 


-    II    IS    NO    SMALL 
Tuny  HOST 

MAY     REMAIN    TO    TIlh.M     A     II'.  V     PCI  !'     Til  V  r     lUt     \ 

BANDS   ALSO    V1AV    BE   BOLT.'  PestaloZ 


BOSTON: 
TICK  NOR,   REED,    AND   FIELDS, 

MOCCCL1I1. 


Entered  accord  i  rig  lo  Acl  of  Congress,  in  the  year  ]852,  bjr 

Ticknor,  Reed,  and  Fields, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  l>i->trict  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts 


/ 


( 


TUCaSTOX,   TOBBr.   AXD    WtBSOff,  PBihTEIti. 


/ 

AiLll 


TO 

MRS.    ANN    COLBOURN, 

TIU.~     LITTLE    VOLI'Ml      18 

£lffcctfonntrl!>  Dfoi'mlro, 

IN    REMEMBRANCE    OF    TAST    DAYS    CHEERED    BY    HER 

SYMPATHY,    AND    AS    A    TRIBUTE    TO    THAT    DISINTERESTED 

BENEVOLENCE,    WHICH    IN    THE    RETIREMENT    OF    HUMBLE    LIFE 

SEEKS    TO    AID    AND    BLESS    ALL    WITHIN    REACH 

OF    ITS    MINISTRY. 

MAY    THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE    MOTHER    EVER    REST   UPON 

HER    CHILDREN    IN    HEART    AND    HOME. 


-L-l  !  ;,<, 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

The  following  Bimple  Sketches  were  intended  as  an 
offering  to  a  small  liand  of  fellow-workers  in  one  of  the 
Domesti.-  Missions  of  England.  A  Budden  removal  from 
that  sphnc  of  action,  and  subsequent  settlement  in  this 
country,  delayed  their  completion,  and  they  arc  now  pub- 
lished, in  the  bflpe  that  Borne,  who  are  engaged  in  similar 
labors  here,  may  sympathize  with  those  brave  men  and 
women  of  the  Old  Land,  whose  devotion  to  the  cause  of 
Human  Progress  rises  ahove  every  selfish  interest,  and 
whose  untiring  exertions  in  the  good  work  they  have 
'chosen  are  almost  unknown  amid  the  more  exciting  move- 
ments of  public  life. 

Boston, 


,Jir* 


I 


LABOR   AND   LOVE: 

A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE 


CIIAPTK  II    I. 

'The  sh.nlow  of  God   wanders  through  Datura;  hut  in  the  pure 
heart,  in  the  happy  home,  U\->  spirit  cornea  ami dwells.1 

i'KtllKlUKA    ISllEMGIl. 

*  Look,  mother,  I  have  finished  my  work!  — 
May  I  go  to  meel  father  and  William?'  And 
little  Charlotte  Herbert  held  up  1W  her  mother*! 
inspection  a  sleeve  she  had  been  sewing.     Airs. 

Herbert  having  examined  it,  gave  her  daughter 
a  smile  of  approval  so  gladsome,  so  loving,  that 
the  child  danced  for  very  joyfulness,  and  spring- 
ing into  her  arms  kissed  some  tears  from  her 
cheek.  Charlotte  knew  they  were  tears  of  hap- 
piness, and  as  she  gazed  upon  that  bright  face, 
felt  how  truly  her  own  young  heart  was  under- 
stood. 

'  This  seam  is  very  neatly  done,  Lottie.'     Did 
you  find  it  dillicult  to  improve  your  stitches?' 
1 


2  LABOR    AND    LOVE : 

'It  was  rather  difficult  at  first,  mother,  for  I 
could  not  keep  the  work  in  place,  and  pricked 
my  finger  many  times,  but  I  remembered  what 

you  told  me  about  being  patient  and  trusting, 
and  when  you  Looked  so  kindly  and  reminded 
mc  of  working  for  father,  I  soon  found  out  a 
better  way  of  doing  it. 

1 1  knew  you  would,  my  love!  Now  hasten 
away,  or  father  and  brother  will  be  at  home 
before  you  go.' 

Charlotte's  little  Btraw  hal  was  quickly  tied, 
and  in  another  moment  $he  tripped  gtiily  on  her 
wa\ . 

The  mother's  heart  overflowed  with  gratitude, 
for  her  child  had  been  sustained  in  doing  right; 
and  love  had  triumphed  over  selfishness.  It 
was  beautiful  to  see  with  what  quiet  grace  she 
moved  about,  so  busy  and  so  happy,  making  their 

humble  dwelling  not  only  a  resting-place  tor  the 
tired  Laborer,  bul  a  home  lor  his  besl  affections, 
where  the  spirit  mighl  grow  in  strength  and 
purity. 

When  she  had  completed  her  preparations, 
Mrs.  Herbert  looked  around  with  a  smile  of  sat- 
isfaction. '  I  think  all  will  do  very  nicely.' 
escaped  her  lips  ;  and  she  turned  in  watchful  ex- 
pectation to  the  window.  Perhaps  she  did  just, 
admire  its  brightness,  and  glance  with  pride  at 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  6 

the  snowy  curtains.  William's  geraniums  and 
fuchias,  too,  so  well  tended  by  his  sister,  how 
lovely  they  were,  with  Charlotte's  own  lit  tic- 
rose-tree  nestling  among  them.  In  the  centre  of 
the  pretty  work-stand  was  an  elegant  vase  filled 
with  choice  flowers  ;  upon  it  also  lay  two  rose- 
buds which  Charlotte  said  she  must  arrange  when 
she  returned.  Everything  told  of  content  and 
happiness.  The  pictures  that  adorned  the  walls, 
and  even  Herbert's  books,  so  neat  and  prim 
upon  their  shelves,  appeared  ready  to  join  in  the 
welcome  home. 

'There  she  is,  father!'  said  William,  when, 
turning  round  the  corner  of  a  street,  he  suddenly 
discovered  his  sister.  '  I  knew  she  would  not 
disappoint  us.' 

Charlotte  came  running  towards  them,  her 
face  glowing  with  delight,  and,  giving  a  hand  to 
each,  skipped  along,  light  and  joyous  as  a 
fawn. 

'  See,  who  is  watching  for  us,  Lottie;  make 
haste.  Here  we  are,  mother!  Hurrah!'  And 
William,  leaping  over  the  gate,  was  at  his  moth- 
er's side  in  an  instant ;  then  as  quickly  ran 
back  to  admit  his  father  and  sister. 

When  the  first  greetings  were  over,  Herbert 
and  his  son  looked  around,  their  feelings  calmed 
by  the  chastening  influence  of  beauty  and  love. 


4  LABOR    AND    LOVE  : 

They  understood  full  well  how  much  care  and 
tabor  were  daily  exercised  lor  them,  and  would 
fain  haw  spoken  the  thanks  so  deeply  felt 
'My  own  Mary!  —  •  M\  dear, dear  mother!'  waa 
all  they  could  utter  —  and  it  was  enough. 

Each  now  retired  to  his  own  room,  where  the 
bath  and  a  complete  change  <>f  clothes  were 
placed  ready. 

Mr-.  Herbert  and  Charlotte  busied  themselvi  - 
preparing  tea.  And  what  an  inviting  table! 
There  was  the  pretty  set  i\\'  china  William  had 
purchased  with  part  <>f  his  lir-t  year's  earnii 
and  presented  to  his  parents  on  their  wedding 
da)  :  a  vase  of  flowers,  some  of  them  droop- 
ing till  they  almost  touched  a  cloth  white  aj 
snow  ;  knives  and  spoons,  bright  as  hands  could 
make  them  :  Buch  delicious  brown  bread  :  such 
butter,  with  a  dish  of  ripe  frail  beside  it  that 
looked  most  provokjngly  tempting.  In  a  short 
time  all  was  ready,  and  when  Herbert  and  Wil- 
liam made  their  appearance,  Charlotte  took  up 
the  two  rose-buds,  and  fastened  them  tastefully 

in  their  clean  linen  eoats. 

'Thank  you,  thank  you.  Lottie  dear.  How 
kind  and  considerate  you  are.'  And  they  kissed 
her  affectionately. 

The  little  party  were  soon  seated,  and  while 
enjoying  their  simple  meal  with  that  keen  relish 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  5 

always  imparted  by  labor  and  exercise,  they  con- 
versed in  unrestrained  cheerfulness;  so  much 
had  to  be* communicated,  so  many  inquiries  to 
be  made,  that  all  were  surprised  when  the  lime 
usually  allotted  bo  tin-  evening  repast  was  gone. 
'  I  think,  Mary,  while  you  and  Lottie  clear 
away,  William  and  I  will  go  and  see  poor  .lames 

Barton.  Robert  told  me  this  morning  that  he 
continued  very  weak  indeed.' 

1  Do  so,  my  dear:  and  perhaps  yon  will  take 
this  jelly  1  have  made  for  him.  Lottie,  too,  I 
think,  has  something  to  send.' 

The  little  girl  quietly  opened  the  cupboard, 

and  lookout  a  small  baskel  of  oranges;  then 
from  her  precious  rose-tree  plucked  tin'  only 
flower  left  there,  and  laying  it  gently  upon  the 
fruit,  gave  the  basket  to  her  father,  whispering, 
1  I  bought  them  with  the  money  you  gave  me 
for  a  new  bonnet  ribbon,  and  am  so  glad  1  had 
it.' 

He  clasped  her  fondly  to  his  heart.  '  God 
bles<  you,  my  dear  child  !  I  am  proud  to  be  the 
bearer  of  your  present." 

'  Good  bye.  mother  —  good  bye,  sister.'  'Soon 
to  return  you  know,'  said  William  as  he  opened 
the  door. 

Charlotte  stood  for  a  minute  looking  sifter 
them,  and  then  turned  to  help  her  mother,  who 


0  LABOR    AND    LOVE: 

was  washing  the  cups  and  saucers.  Everything 
was  soon  in  place,  and  in  half  an  hour  they  were 
all  re-united.  The  invalid  had  been  found  much 
better,  and  now  this  visit  of  mercy  over,  they 
could  spend  the  remainder  of  the  evening  with- 
out interruption. 

The  young  people  were  sometimes  encour- 
aged by  their  parents  to  converse  on  subjects 
of  vital  import.  The  history  of  the  past  was 
opened,  and  made  familiar  to  their  understand- 
ings by  interesting  remarks  and  explanations. 
Frequently  would  Herbert  lead  them  in  wonder 
and  admiration  to  the  knowledge  of  their  Crea- 
tor's works  ;  now  dwelling  upon  the  exquisite 
structure  of  some  tiny  insect,  now  upon  the 
form  and  tints  of  some  lovely  flower.  Their 
inquiries  were  always  received  with  gladness, 
and  kindly  answered;  so  that  these  evening  con- 
versations were  eagerly  anticipated  and  prized 
as  they  deserved  to  be.  Their  father  had  a  flute, 
too,  and  it  was  seldom  forgotten,  because  it  gave 
pleasure  to  those  he  loved. 

This  night  their  converse  was  prolonged,  for 
Charlotte  had  to  tell  how  difficult  she  found  it 
to  do  many  things  she  did  not  like,  but  which 
sh«>  knew  ought  to  be  done,  and  how  hard  she 
had  striven  to  overcome  that  evil.  Then  her 
mother  told  how  she  persevered  in  her  sewing 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  7 

to  which  she  had  such  an  aversion,  at  the  same 
time  producing  the  work  so  neatly  finished  as  a 
confirmation. 

Herbert's  home  had  always  been  hallowed  by 
domestic  worship.  Now  the  large  family  Bible 
was  placed  before  him.  Our  Saviour's  words, 
'  I  came  not  to  do  mine  own  will,  but  the  will 
of  Him  that  sent  me,'  were  read,  and  impressed 
upon  every  heart.  Then,  kneeling  down  to- 
gether, the  husband  and  father  offered  a  simple, 
fervent  prayer,  in  which  the  peculiar  wants  and 
trials  of  each  were  made  known.  And  as  in  a 
deep  earnest  voice,  the  concluding  thanksgiving 
arose,  these  simple  worshippers  rejoiced  in  God, 
and  felt  that  they  could  never  be  unhappy  while 
gifted  with  power  to  do  good  to  others,  and  to 
bless  both  friends  and  enemies. 

Long  after  "William  and  Charlotte  had  retired 
to  rest,  did  their  parents  remain  in  earnest  com- 
munion. It  was  at  such  times  they  laid  out 
plans  of  future  usefulness,  spoke  in  full  confi- 
dence of  the  events  of  the  past  day,  and  con- 
sulted each  other  about  the  peculiar  dispositions 
and  training  of  those  to  whom  they  had  given 
existence,  and  for  whose  destiny  they  were  ac- 
countable. At  this  quiet  hour  their  own  good 
resolutions  were  often  renewed,  and  divine  aid 
sought,  that  every  holy  precept  given  to  their 


O  LABOR    AND    LOVE  I 

children  might  be  fully  exemplified  in  their  own 
li\  «s. 

'  We  all  learn  so  much  from  what  is  passing 
around  us,'  Herbert  would  sometimes  say,  'that 
to  teach  thoroughly,  we  must  act  out  true  and 
noble  principles  in  common  every-day  duty,  and, 
perhaps,  not  talk  aboal  them  quite  so  much.' 

We  are  inclined  to  think  he  was  right. 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE. 


CHAPTER    II. 

'  When  wilt  tltou  save  the  people  ? 
Oh,  God  of  mercy  !  when  ? 
The  people,  Lord  !   the  people  ! 
Not  thrones  and  crowns,  but  men  ! 
God  save  the  people  !  thine  they  are, 
Thy  children,  as  thy  angels  fair : 
Save  them  from  bondage  and  despair ! 
God  save  the  people.' 

Ebes.zeii  Elliott. 

The  large  manufacturing  town  of  Birming- 
ham, where  the  Herberts  resided,  has  long 
occupied  a  prominent  place  in  the  mind  of  the 
philanthropist  and  the  Christian.  There,  as  in 
other  similar  districts  of  England,  those  units 
of  its  vast  population,  upon  whose  industry  its 
eminences  based,  rise  not  to  their  just  position 
in  social  life  ;  nay,  so  degraded  is  the  condition 
of  the  majority  of  the  sons  of  toil,  that  many 
noble  spirits  who,  with  steadfast  purpose,  have 
emancipated  themselves  from  the  bondage  of 
ignorance  and  its  attendant  evils,  shun  their 
brethren,  thus  drawing  another  line  of  separa- 
tion in  a  too  much  complicated  scale  of  society. 


10 


I,  UNtll     AM)     LOVE  : 


Great  efforts  have  indeed  been  made  lor  the 
elevation  of  the  people.  The  importance  of  a 
system  of  national  education  is  admitted,  and 
some  ;_r"<id  has  resulted  from  the  exertions  of 
citizens  and  legislators.  May  the  great  work 
go  forward,  free  from  the  domination  of  Beet  or 
party.  The  necessity  of  Banitary  improvements 
is  felt,  and  Bolemn  questions  of  social  polity  arc 
better   understood    than    formerly.      Hut    shall   a 

■ 

nation  look  to  these  alone  for  moral  and  physi- 
cal renovation.'  Government  may  enact  w  i.-e 
and  good  law-,  and  we  hail  the  blessing;  in- 
solations may  awaken  men  to  a  sense  <>!'  their 
responsibilities,  and  the  privileges  they  ought  to 
enjoy  as  members  of  the  national  family,  and 
We  njoicc  in  such  movements;  schools  and 
mechanics'  institute-  flourish,  and  we  would 
multiply  them  ;  but  nearer  than  these  we  ap- 
proach the  human  heart,  and  watching  its  deep 
Workings    ill    the    household,  the    SOUrCe    of  good 

and  evil  seems  revealed,  and  we  arc  constrained 
to  believe  that  ere  England  deserves  that  high 
place  --he  claim-  among  nations,  the  homes  of 
her  neglected  children  must  be  purified  and 
made  happy.  How  so  great  a  work  can  be 
fully  accomplished,  we  arc  unable  to  determine, 
but  we  do  know  something  of  a  holy  influence 
pervading  common  life,  through  the  example  of 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  11 

those  true  patriots  who  could,  if  required,  stand 
ii|)  boldly  in  freedom's  canse  ;  men,  who  go 
through  a  daily  round  of  duties,  tedious  it  may 
be  in  themselves,  but  persevered  in  from  motives 
that  give  energy  to  labor;  and,  at  the  close  of  a 
day  so  spent,  enliven  with  their  presence  a 
home,  which  the  brave  spirit  of  self-denial  has 
enabled  them  to  furnish  with  objects  of  utility 
and  beauty;  a  home  where  love  and  duly  reign 
supreme,  where  woman'-  true  mis-ion  is  owned 
and  reverenced,  and  to  whose  altar  the  soul  of 
childhood  turns  as  to  its  native  heaven. 

Such  was  the  home  of  Charles  Herbert;  the 
realization  of  those  bright  dreams  of  youth, 
when  he  determined  to  conceal  his  affection  for 
Mary  Fielding,  till  he  could  provide  an  abode 
worthy  to  be  shared  by  a  being  so  loving  and 
gentle,  and  yet  so  strong  in  duly  and  courage- 
ous in  difficulties.  And  when  Mary  had  con- 
sented to  become  his  wife,  with  what  rapture 
he  listened  to  her,  while  telling  him  how  she 
had  cherished  the  remembrance  of  her  old  play- 
mate through  years  of  absence  and  change,  and 
how  she  chose  to  go  to  service  rather  than 
follow  the  business  of  a  milliner,  (an  occupation 
her  friends  considered  more  respectable,)  in  order 
to  gain  a  practical  knowledge  of  household 
economy  ;  and,  by  increasing  usefulness,  render 


12 


LABOR    AND    LOVE 


herself  deserving  of  one  who,  she  fondly  hoped, 
would  some  day  claim  her  as  his  own. 

The  early  yean  oftheif  married  life  glided  on 

in  aninterapted  tranquillity.    They  were  Messed 

with  three  promising  children,  for  whose  support 

'  and  culture  thej  deemed  it  a  privilege  to  labor, 

and    for   whom    no   privation   was   too   severe   to 

be  endured.     J^ut   their  youngest  hoy  Edward 
w;i-  soon  removed   from  the  influence  of  their 

love.      Delicate    from    his  birth,  lie  sunk   under  a 
ddden  attack  of  fever,  and  though  the  hearts  of 

his  parents  bled  a1  the  sacrifice,  they  resigned 
him,  in  perfect  faith,  to  his  Father  in  heaven. 
Time  -jx^]  on.  and  his  memory  was  cherished 
as  ;i  sacred  trust,  nor  was  be  spoken  of  as 
estranged  from  these  dear  relatives,  For  his  -pirit 
emed  to  hover  around  them,  and  whisper 
bright  hopes  of  the  future. 

William  was  now  sixteen  J  a  line  youth,  full 
of  spirit  and  intelligence.  He  had  been  kept  at 
school  till  within  the  last  two  years.  His  tutor, 
one  of  those  men.  whom  their  pupils  delight  to 
honor,  had  not  only  imparted  a  Large  amount  of 
instruction,  but  awakened  in  the  boy's  mind 
such  a  consciousness  of  mental  power,  such  a 
healthy  desire  for  knowledge,  as  ^rave  promise 
of  a  lofty  manhood.  Charlotte  had  just  com- 
pleted  her  twelfth   year,  and  was   a   miniature 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  13 

resemblance  of  her  mother,  whose  gentle  nature 
had  infused  itself  into  the  glad  spirit  of  her 
child,  by  w-hom  she  was  worshipped  with  in- 
tense affection.  She  undertook  to  instruct  Char- 
lotte in  the  elements  of  know  ledge,  and  in  those 
domestic  acquirements  so  essential  in  woman. 
Besides  this,  our  little  friend  attended  an  excel- 
lent school  a  few  hours  every  day,  for  the  benefit 
of  some  higher  branches  of  study.  And  to  crown 
all,  there  was  the  example  of  parents,  rich  in 
every  good  work.  It  was  one  of  the  highest  aims 
of  the  Herberts  to  educate  their  children  truly, 
effectually.  For  this  end,  much  personal  comfort 
had  to  be  surrendered.  ]>nt  were  they  not  amply 
recompensed  ? 


14  LABOR    AND    LOVE 


CHAPTER    III. 

'  From  ihc  recesses  of  a  lowly  spirit 
Mv  bumble  prayer  ascends,  0  Father  hear  it ! 
i     ae  on  the  trembling  wings  of  fear  and  meek: 
Forgive  its  weakni 

'  Who  r:m  r.  sist  thy  gentle  call,  appealing 
I       rerj  generous  thought  ami  grateful  feeling? 
Oh  !  who  can  heat  ibe  a<  >■■  nta  ol  thy  mercy, 

\,ul  never  love  thee  ?' 

Dh.  Bowhing. 

John  Palmeb  was  a  fellow-workman  of  Iler- 
bert'8.  Gifted  alike  with  robusi  health,  both 
thorough  masters  of  tln-ir  trade,  and  earning 
the  Bame  amonnl  of  wages,  yel  what  a  differ- 
ence in  their  position,  what  a  contrast  between 
them.  Often  when  the  labors  of  the  day  were 
closed.  would  Palmer  appear  sauntering  along, 
with  a  vacant  countenance,  uncertain  whether 
to  turn  into  some  public  house  or  go  directly 
home.  One  evening  he  went  onward  with  a 
more  fixed  determination  than  usual,  lor  Her- 
bert, who  was  untiring  in  his  efforts  to  elevate 
his  brother  workmen,  had  that  morning  suc- 
ceeded  in    rousing    Palmer's    slumbering   con- 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE. 


15 


science,  and  graven  upon  his  heart  an  impress 
of  love  that,  sinking  into  its  mysterious  depths, 
would  ere  long  work  out  a  diviner  life. 

He  soon  readied  a  small,  dirty  looking  house, 
where  two  children  were  sitting  on  the  door- 
step. 

'Where's  your  mother,  Alice?"  said  he,  ac- 
costing  the  eldest,  a  bright  eyed  little  girl,  who 
was  cutting  out  grotesque  figures  in  paper  for 
the  amusement  of  her  young  brother. 

'Just  gone  into  Johnson's,  father !  I'll  fetch 
her  in  a  minute.  You  stay  here  Harry  till  I 
come  back.' 

Palmer  went  into  the  house  and  sat  down  in 
glooinv  silence.  Harry  crept  close  to  his  father, 
and  asked  him  if  he  would  stay  at  home  and 
show  him  how  to  make  his  new  kite,  that  he 
mighl  fly  it  to-morrow  afternoon;  William  Her- 
bert having  promised  to  take  him  into  the  fields. 
His  father  consented,  for  he  felt  proud  that  a 
youth  like  William  should  notice  Harry. 

Mrs.  Palmer  now  made  her  appearance. 

'Dear  me,  John,  I  wish  I  had  known  of  your 
•coming,  but  you're  -<>  uncertain,  there's  no 
telling  when  to  expect  you." 

'Well  never  mind,  Jane.  Make  haste  with 
supper.      Give    me    the    young    one,    and   let 


16  I. A 13 OR    AND    LOVE  : 

Alice  fetch  a  jug  of  boor.  But  stay;  is  there 
nothing  but  bread  and  cheese  in  the  house?' 

'  Nothing  else,  John.  Would  you  like  some 
tripe  from  Lamb's?  Hairy  can  go  with  Alice 
and  get  it.' 

The  children  being  sent  on  i h« ■  i r  errand,  Mrs. 
Palmer  removed  Brora  the  chairs  and  tables 
sundry  articles,  tor  which  no  place  seemed  to  be 
appropriated,  then  hastily  wiping  off  the  dust 
With    her   apron,    proceeded    to    lay  the   cloth,  on 

which  spots  (>(  grease  were  very  conspicuous. 
The  knives  and  forks, seldom  cleaned  more  than 
once  ;i  week,  had  a  mosl  IMCOUth  appearanee, 
and  mark-  round  the  handles  of  the  drinking 
cup-  betrayed  strid  economy  in  the  use  of 
water. 

After  these  preparation-,  she  took  the  baby 
from  her  husband,  who  went  through  some  verj 
limited  ablutions  in  a  small  wooilen  bowl  kept 
on  a  sink  at  the  top  ^C  the  cellar  steps.  At 
length  the  children  returned,  and  supper  was 
placed  upon  the  table.  Their  meal  being  dis- 
patched  in  a  very  short  time.  Alice  went  to  play 
with  a  neighbor's  children.  Jlarry  reminded  his 
father  of  the  kite,  and  they  both  set  to  work  in 
earnest.  Mrs.  Palmer  having  cleared  the  sapper 
table,  sat  down  to  undress  her  little  James,  who 
was  soon  sleeping  in  his  cradle.     She  then  took 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  17 

up  some  sewing,  and  plied  her  needle  diligently 
till  she  was  disturbed  by  a  shout  of  exultation 
from  Harry,  who  almost  upsel  the  table  as  he 
ran  towards  her  with  his  new  made  treasure. 

'  Look,  mother,  what  a  large  one.  Did  you 
ever  see  such  a  beauty?  Father  says  1  must 
take  care  it  don't  run  away  with  me.' 

I  lis  mother  admired  the  kite  to  his  heart's 
content,  and  laid  it  down  very  carefully,  where 
it  might  dry  quickly. 

'  I  wish  father  would  stay  at  home  very,  very 
often.  Don't  you,  mother?  We  should  be  so 
happy.' 

Without  waiting  for  an  answer,  the  little 
fellow  ran  across  the  room,  and  drew  Palmer  to 
where  his  wife  was  sitting.  lie  .-at  down  beside 
her. 

'  Now  ask  him.  mother.  I  am  sure  he  will! 
Won't  you.  father  ? ' 

The  child's  appeal  touched  the  heart  of  both 
parents.  They  knew  not  what  t«>  say,  and  sat 
in  painful  silence.  They  were  shortly  relieved 
by  the  entrance  of  Alice. 

Harry  sprang  forward,  and  pulling  his  sister 
along  till  she  >\ook\  in  full  view  of  his  handsome 
kite,  made  her  examine  it  very  closely. 

'How    beautiful!'    said    Alice,    clapping   her 


LS  LABOR    AND    LOVE  : 

hands.      And  what   a  large  one.     Why,  Harry, 
von  will  never  hold  it.' 

'"William  Herbert   has  promised  10  help  me 
fly  it  to-morrow.     I  do  so  love  him,  Alice !' 

'So  do  I,  Harry.     Ami  don't  you  love  Lottie, 
too?     Do  yon  know  -he  and  her  mother  pas 
me  to-day.  and  they  asked  me  to  go  and 
them.     I  forgol  i"  tell  you  before,  mother.    May 

I  go  some  da\    .'  * 

'  Yes,  Alice.     I  want  to  see  Mrs.  Herbert  my- 
self, so  perhaps  we  can  go  together.     But  yon 

must  not  sit  up  any  longer.     Now  wish  father 
good  night.1 

When  the  children  were  gone,  Palmer  took 
up  a  newspaper,  and  his  wife  resumed  her  sew- 
ing. Both  were  silent,  tor  of  late,  feelings  had 
rj  awaloned  within  them  at  present  little 
understood,  but  which  made  them  sad  and 
dissatisfied  with  themselves.  The  sewing  was 
soon  put  away,  and  the  newspaper  laid  aside 
unread.  After  musing  some  minutes,  Mrs. 
Palmer  approached  her  husband,  and  kneeling 
beside  him,  hid  her  face  in  his  bosom  and  burst 
into  a  passion  of  tear-.  He  was  too  much 
moved  to  speak,  nor  did  he  ask  the  cause  of 
this  unusual  manifestation  of  sorrow.  The 
electric  current  of  sympathy  running  through 
their    souls    revealed    their    griefs.      They    were 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  19 

bowed  down  by  a  sense  of  duties  unfulfilled, 
opportunities  for  doing  good  slighted,  alienation 
from  eaefi  other  and  from  God.  They  had 
been  strangers  to  communion  with  Him,  and  to 
thai  divine  life  of  purity  and  self-sacrifi<  e,  which 
alone  sanctifies  domestic  tics  and  ennobles  hu- 
man love.  In  sorrow  and  humility  they  raised 
their  hearts  to  Heaven.  Surely  the  blessing 
promised  to  the  penitent  rested  upon  them. 

Morning  came,  and  with  ii  a  bright  sun- 
shine, that  shed  gladness  over  heart  and  home. 
Palmer  rose  earlier  than  usual,  and  called  Harry 
to  take  a  walk  with  him  before  breakfast.  In 
the  mean  time  Alice  and  her  mother  went 
through  their  household  duties  in  a  spirit  of 
love  and  cheerfulness,  which  made  all  they  did 
a  positive  enjoyment.  Their  bouse,  usually  so 
untidy,  began  to  wear  a  look  of  comfort,  and 
though  little  improvement  could  be  effected  at 
once,  sufficient  change  was  apparent  when 
Alice  placed  a  chair  for  her  father  at  the  break- 
fast table,  and  he  said,  looking  around, — 

'  How  comfortable  we  seem  this  morning.  I 
think  Harry  and  I  shall  do  justice  to  this  nice 
bread  and  milk  after  our  walk.  Is  James  awake 
yet  ? ' 

As  if  in  answer,  the  little  fellow  began  to  cry 
with   all  his  might.     Alice  brought  him   down 


20  LABOR    AND    LOVE  '. 

stairs,  and  after  being  kissed  rather  more  than 
seemed  pleasing  to  him,  he  remained  quiet 
while  they  finished  their  meal. 

'  "When    do   you    intend   going   to  Herbei 
Jane?'    said     Palmer,   as    he   rose    to   depart. 
'Could   you   manage  it  this  afternoon?     I  will 
call  there  after  I  leave  work.' 

'I  think  I  can.  mid  Alice  too.  I  want  to  Si 
Mrs.  Herberl  very  much.  Then  you  will  have 
an  opportunity  ^\  Bpeaking  to  her  husband  as 
you  wish.  And  Harry  had  better  be  read)  for 
William,  who  will  be  at  home  earlier  than 
usual.' 

These  arrangements  were  agreed  to.  Alice 
and  Harry  were  half  wild  with  joy.  Mrs. 
Palmer  was  surprised   ai   the  ease  with  which 

she    performed     her    various     household    labor-, 

even  with  little  .lame,  to  be  nursed  and  cared 

for:  and -he  looked  forward  with  happy  antici- 
pation to  the  intended  visit. 


A    TALE    OK    ENGLISH    LIFE.  21 


CHAPTER    IV. 

*  Oh  give  him  taste  !    it  is  the  link 
Which  hinds  us  to  the  skies  — 
A  bridge  of  rainbows  thrown  across 

The  gulf  of  tears  and  sighs  ; 
Or  like  a  widower's  little  one  — 

An  angel  in  a  child  — 
That  leads  him  to  her  mother's  chair, 
And  shows  him  how  she  smiled.' 

Ebenezeb  Elliott. 

It  was  early  afternoon  :    and    Mrs.  Herbert, 
assisted  by  Charlotte,  had  cleaned  the  kitchen, 

and  was  looking  round  their  pony  parlor  to 
that    everything  was   in   order,  when    William, 
who  had   determined  to  make  the   best  of  his 
holiday,  came  in. 

'  Mother,'  he  said,  '  I  have  such  good  news  for 
you.  Mrs.  Palmer  is  coming  in  about  an  hour, 
and  will  bring  all  the  children.  Father  has  per- 
suaded Mr.  Palmer  to  join  us  after  he  leaves 
work.' 

'  I  am  indeed  happy  to  hear  this,'  replied  his 
mother.  '  Lottie,  we  must  hasten  to  change  our 
dress.    Have  you  laid  out  your  brother's  clothes  ? ' 


-»-) 


LABOR    AND    LOVE 


'  Yes,   mother,    everything   is   ready.      May 
Alice  and  I  ero  with  the  boys  !     I  should  like  to 
see  them  fly  Harry's  kite,  and  we  could  gather 
some  wild  flowers.     Oh  it  would  be  bo  delight- , 
fill.' 

'  Well,  love,  if  Mr-.  Palmer  consents,  I  have 
no  objection;  bnl  we  most  qoI  stay  talking  here, 
or  we  Bhall  not  be  ready  t<>  receive  them.' 

Semi  the  visitors  arrived,  and  righl  heartily 
were  they  welcomed.  It  was  settled  that  the 
girls  should  accompany  their  brothers,  and  they 
all  set  off  after  receiving  >triet  injunctions  not  to 

_  el  the  tea  hour. 

Little  James,  who  had  fallen  asleep,  was  laid 
in  Charlotte's  bed,  and  oar  two  friends  wire  left 

alone. 

1  Should    you    like    to   look   over   the    hoi 
Jane.''  said  Mrs.  Herbert    'We  have  Buch  com- 
fortable rooms  up  staii  .' 

'  Thank  yon  :  I  should  very  much.  "What  a 
nice  little  parlor  this  is,  and  how  prettily  you 
have  furnished  it.' 

'  I  am  glad  you  think  bo.  The  furniture  "was 
chosen  by  my  husband.  These  hook—helves  are 
bis  own  work." 

■  \xe  they  indeed?  How  neatly  finished.  Y.x- 
cuse  me  asking,  -Mary,  but  did  it  cost  very  much 
to  lit  up  this  room  ?' 


ar 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  23 


'  Not  a  great  deal.  You  pee  the  articles  are 
Bimple,  and  we  have  hut  few  of  them.9 

4  To  he  sure.  Let  me  Bee.  There  is  the 
centre-table,  six  chairs,  this  Little  work-stand, 
the  carpet.  —  why  this  is  all,  besides  the  fender 
and  lire-irons.  I  though!  there  was  much 
more!' 

Mrs.  Herbert  smiled  and  her  friend  went  on  — 

•  Ah,  I  find  it  is  the  arrangement  of  the  things, 
and  all  being  so  clean,  thai  givls  the  charm. 
Those  white  curtains,   too,   and    the    plants,   and 

flowers  have  something  1<»  do  with  it.' 

'Indeed  they  have,  .lane.  Charles  and  lad- 
mire  beautiful  things  about  as,  and  true  beauty 
is  found  in  objects  within  the  reach  of  most 
people.9 

Mrs.  Palmer  was   thoughtful    for  a    few  min- 
utes: then   glancing  again  at   the  book-she] 
full  of  choice   volumes,  asked   if  Herbert  read 
much. 

•lie  is  very  fond  of  reading,'  Mary  replied, 
'though  he  has  little  time  for  it.  In  the  winter 
evenings  he  often  reads  aloud  in  turn  with  Wil- 
liam, while  Lottie  and  I  are  busy  sewing.9 

'Those  must  be  happy  hours,  Mary.  But  do 
let  me  see  your  kitchen  and  sleeping-rooms 
before  the  children  come  hack.' 

If  !\Irs.  Palmer  was  delighted  with  the  parlor, 


24  LABOR    AND    LOVE: 

the  kitchen  equally  claimed  her  admiration,  w  ith 
its  white  deal  tables,  and  highly  polished  chairs; 
a  nicely   painted   dresser   adorned  with  a   fair 

cloth,  and  a  bright  array  of  plates  and  dishes. 
It  was  indeed  a  pattern  of  a  kitchen,  ami  let  us 
whisper  it  to  those  whom  it  may  profit,  there 
'was  a  place  for  everything,  and  everything  in 

its  place.' 

Mrs.  Herbert  now- led  the  way  tn  the  Bleeping' 
rooms.     We  cannol  give  higher  praise  to  tl 
than  by  saying,  thai  they  were  in  perfect  keeping 

with  the  lower  apartments.  .Mrs.  Palmer  was 
rather  surprised  to  see  a  hath  in  every  room, and 
asked  if  they  w  ere  often  used. 

1  Every  morning,'  replied  .Mary,  -and  when 
Charles  and  William  return  from  work,  they 
always  require  one.  Indeed,  my  husband  tells 
me  thai  when  he  comes  home  unusually  we 
he  i-  more  invigorated  by  using  his  hath,  than 
after  a  night's  rest  without  it." 

'  Does  he,  really  ?  Well,  .Mary,  I  honestly 
confess  I  have  thought  you  over-particular,  and 
that  yon  would  become  too  proud  to  notice  us. 
I  feel  now  I  was  mistaken,  and  the  fault  is 
mine." 

'  AVe  will  speak  of  this  another  time,  .lane. 
Hark!  Jain,1-  i<  waking,  Take  him  up  softly. 
There,  shall  we  go  down  now   .'  ' 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  25 

It  was  not  long  before  the  young  folks  returned 
full  of  spirits  and  fun.  The  boys  were  very 
eloquent  in  praise  of  the  kite,  which  had  af- 
forded high  gratification  to  them  all.  And  such 
an  abundance  of  wild  flowers  the  girls  had  gath- 
ered, that  their  brothers  were  obliged  to  share 
the  load.  As  for  Alice,  she  danced  for  joy  al  the 
though!  of  taking  some  home,  and  Charlotte  had 
promised  to  help  her  to  arrange  the 

•l)<>  you  always   take   tea   bo  Late?'    asked 

Palmer  when  they  were  seated  round  the  table. 
'  I  could  not  wail  past  four  o'clock,  so  Jane  sends 
mine  to  the  factory." 

'  This  is  rather  a  late  hour,  I  own,'  replied  Her- 
bert. '  Mary  and  I  did  not  reconcile  ourselv< 
the  habit  at  once,  but  as  we  never  enjoy  our 
meals  apart,  we  determined  to  persevere,  and  if 
we  are  very  hungry  before  the  appointed  time, 
a  -lice  of  bread  is  all-sufficient.' 

'I  think  the  plan  a  good  one,'  said  Mrs. 
Palmer.  'It  is  so  much  pleasanter  to  sit  down 
together,  and  tea  is  such  a  social  meal.' 

'True,  Jane,"  added  Mrs.  Herbert;  'we  de- 
sire to  impress  upon  our  children  that  when  we 
thus  meet,  it  is  not  merely  for  the  purpose  of 
eating  and  drinking,  but  for  the  enjoyment  of 
each  other's  society,  and  the  interchange  of 
kindly  feelings.' 


26  LABOR    AND    LOVE : 

'  How  did  you  manage  when  your  children 
were  \  ounger  '.  ' 

'  I  then  gave  them  their  bread  and  milk 
early,  and  lei  them  go  to  bed  soon  after  their 
father  came  home.  Ii  adds  greatly  to  our  hap- 
piness always  to  see  them  here,  now  they  are  old 
enough.5 

'  Then  you  do  nol  wain  supper.  Why,  at 
our  house  there  always  seems  most  to  do  in  the 
evening.  When  I  knew  John  is  coming  home, 
I  always  cook  meal  of  Borne  kind:  and  if  he 
happens  to  drop  in  unawares,  we  arc  all  hurry 

and  hustle  to  gel   ready.' 

•   \nd  what    a    loss  of  valuable  time,   Jane; 
what  a  neglecl  of  the  higher  gifts  of  Providence. 

The  hours  are  few  that  a  working  man  can 
spend  with  hi.-  family,  and  I  think  they  Bnould  be 
free  !e   from  petty  cares.     But,' contin- 

ued Mary,  smiling,  '  he  will  ere  long  he  more 
punctual,  depend  upon  it.' 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  by  a  merry 
laugh  among  the  young  people.  William  had 
a  amusing  hi-  companions  with  some  droll 
anecdote-  of  hi-  -chool-days,  which  seemed  to 
please  them  exceedingly.  Tea  being  over,  he 
took  them  to  see  a  little  plot  of  ground  he  had 
cultivated,  with  the  help  of  Charlotte,  who  took 
at  pride  in  all  that  gratified  her  brother. 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  27 

'  You  seem  sad  and  thoughtful,  John,'  said 
Herbert,  drawing  his  chair  close  to  where  his 
Mend  was  sitting.' 

'  I  do  feel  troubled,  Charles,  and  regret  that  I 
have  been  so  reserved  with  you.  If  I  had  under- 
stood you  better,  I  might  have  been  a  different 
man.' 

'  Well,  speak  not  of  the  past.  Let  as  look  to 
the  future,  and  strive  to  live  in  it  nobly.' 

'With  the  help  of  God  I  will,'  said  Palmer 
solemnly.  'And  you,  do  forgive  all  my  rudeness 
and  unkind  treatment,  when  I  fancied  yon  must 
in •( ids  be  proud  because  you  took  a  larger  house, 
and  it  looked  so  handsome  and  comfortable.  I 
did  not  then  know  these  things  were  the  reward 
of  so  much  industry  and  self-denial.' 

'  No  more  of  this,  my  friend.  Our  agreement 
is,  that  you  begin  at  once  to  pursue  the  same 
course  in  the  use  of  the  same  means.  I  am  to 
give  you  all  the  help  I  can.' 

'Thanks  —  thanks,  Charles.  This  will  be  a 
memorable  day  to  me.  Every  word  you  said 
yesterday  is  engraven  on  my  heart.  Had  you 
not  spoken  out  then,  I  might  have  left  you  to- 
night envious  of  your  happiness.' 

Mrs.  Herbert  now  came  forward,  and  laying 
her  hand  upon  her  husband's  shoulder,  asked  him 
to  remember  the  first  day  of  next  month. 


2$  LABOR    AND    LOVE  : 

'  It  is  our  Edward's  bilth-day,'  said  Herbert, 
turning  to  his  friend.  'We  always  keep  it  in 
company  with  those  very  dear  to  ns.  Let  us 
now  include  you  among  them;  and  the  chil- 
dren of  course.  Mrs.  Palmer,  I  know  you  will 
not  object.5 

'  We  shall  indeed  be  happy  to  come.  How 
beautifu]  so  to  remember  the  dead.' 

1  Can  we  do  otherwise.  Jane  ?  Edward  is  not 
Losl  to  us,  though  removed  from  our  care,     ffia 

life  is  Hill  a  reality  and  a  blessing.' 

'You    must    tench   us  to   love  him,  too,  Mary. 

Did  William  and   Lottie  grieve  much  for  his 
loss?' 

'It  was  a  heavy  Borrow  to  them  when  they 
first  parted  from  the  dear  brother  they  loved 
bo  well.  Lottie  especially  fell  the  bereavement, 
for  during  his  illness  she  anticipated  his  wants 
with  a  solicitude  akin  to  mine  ;  and  many  were 
the  selfish  pleasures  she  cheerfully  resigned  t'o 

nurse  and  tend  him.' 

.Mr-.  Herbert's  voice  faltered,  but  she  soon 
resumed  her  composure,  and  continued  — 

'  My   dear  Jane,  it   is  by   visitations  such 
ihe>e.  we  are  awakened  to  a  true   knowledge  of 
OUT  relation  to  each  other  both  in  life  and  death. 
and  Learn  the  full  value  of  a  1  rusting  heart." 

'  Yes,'   added   her   husband,  '  the   pure    spirit 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE. 


29 


fades  from  mortality,  but  still  dwells  in  the 
hearts  where  it  was  first  cherished,  to  unite  them 
eternally  in  God.' 

'  And  do  not  we,  dear  Charles,  fee]  this 
blessed  Influence  every  hour  V  said  Mary.  'It 
has  so  sanctified  our  affection,  and  realized  to  us 
the  nearness  of  heaven.' 

'  Would  that  we  could  all  realize  it,1  said 
Palmer.  '  But  how  few  possess  this  faith.  God 
grant  that  I  ana  mine  may  not  remain  long 
strangers  to  its  influence.' 

'  You  will  not,  indeed,  you  will  not,  my 
friend,'  returned  Herbert,  grasping  his  hand 
with  earnestness.  'Believe  me,  it  is  only  the 
contrite,  humble  soul  that  is  prepared  for  its 
reception.  Alas!  Christianity,  though  widely 
professed,  is  so  far  removed  from  our  daily  in- 
tercourse, that  few  of  us  rec  gnise  its  existence, 
except  as  something  foreign  to  daily  life  and 
.duty.' 

'  It  could  never  be  separated  from  these,  my 
husband,  if  we  did  but  draw  near  enough  to 
Christ  to  imbibe  a  portion  of  his  spirit;  and 
ever  think  of  him  as  :i  loving  friend,  always 
ready  to  sympathize  in  our  joys,  our  sorrows  and 
temptations ;  aye,  in  the  most  humble  duty  we 
have  to  perform.' 

This  interesting  conversation  was  prolonged 


30  LABOR    AND    LOVE  : 

to  rather  a  late  hour  for  the  children,  who  had 
meanwhile  amused  themselves  with  some  dis- 
sected maps  and  puzzles. 

Unwillingly  reminded  of  the  lapse  of  time, 
Palmer  and  his  wife  prepared  lor  iheir  departure. 
The  Mends  separated  with  mutual  blessings, 
and  promises  of  continued  intercourse  in  the 
future. 


i 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE. 


31 


CHAPTER   V 

1  Unskilful  he  to  fawn  or  seek  for  power 
By  doctrines  fashioned  to  the  varying  hour ; 
Far  oilier  aims  his  heart  had  learnt  to  prize, 
More  bent  to  raise  the  wretched  than  to  rise.' 

Goldsmith. 

Our  scene  changes  to  a  green   lane  in  the 
suburbs  of  Birmingham.  A  pleasant  retired  place, 

shaded  by  trees,  whose  overhanging  branches, 
spread i Pig  from  either  side,  form  a  noble  arching, 
through  which  the  lover  of  nature  may  pursue 
his  walk,  sheltered  from  the  noon-day  sun,  or  in 
the  twilight  of  evening  find  that  quiet  so  often 
longed  for  by  the  meditative  mind.  A  few 
modest  dwellings  at  intervals  enliven  the  land- 
scape, and  well-cultured  gardens  around  them 
bespeak  the  industry  of  the  occupants.  At  the 
time  of  our  narrative,  one  pretty  cottage  might 
always  be  known  by  its  excessive  cleanliness, 
and  superior  taste  evinced  in  the  arrangement  of 
the  flowers  and  shrubs,  which  greeted  every 
passer-by  with  their  beauty  and  fragrance. 


32  LABOR    AND    LOVE : 

One  lovely  evening  in  Jane,  when  nature's 
self  seemed  hushed  in  repose,  a  merry  laugh 
suddenly  broke  upon  the  stillness;  and  presently 
from  this  same  cottage  door,  issued  a  boy,  appa- 
rently about  eight  years  of  age,  followed  by  a 
beautiful  girl  just  merging  into  womanhood. 
The  loud  Laugh  of  the  boy  told  the  freedom  of  a 
glad  spirit,  unstained  by  artifice  or  fear;  while 
the  gentler  tones  of  his  companion,  as  she  heart- 
ily joined,  seemed  its  very  echoes.  An  elderly 
gentleman,  who  sat  at  an  open  window,  enjoy- 
ing the  sport,  presently  let  loose  a  Large  spaniel, 
who  scampered  after  the  brother  and  sister  round 
the  garden,  barking  as  loudly  as  a  i\o;j;  could  be 
expected  to  do  who  was  thus  privileged.  After 
a  long  nice,  with  the  help  of  Victor,  the  young 
girl  succeeded  in  capturing  her  brother.  He,  in 
playful  retaliation,  drew  a  Large  comb  from  her 
hair,  which  (lowed  around  Imt  in  wild  confusion. 
Then  they  laughed  again,  and  papa  laughed 
too.  and  Victor  barked  louder  than  ever,  finally 
jumping  through  the  parlor  window.  Ellen  and 
George  made  their  entrance  by  the  door,  in  a 
most  disorderly  manner,  throwing  a  shower  of 
rose  leaves  over  their  papa. 

'Look  at  Nelly,  dear  papa,'  said  George,  'is 
she  not  pretty  now?'  and  with  an  arch  look  he 
held  up  the  comb  in  triumph.  '  Do  see  how 
pretty  she  looks.'  VtW'' 


t      * 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  33 

The  fond  father  might  well  be  pardoned  if  he 
did  look  upon  her  with  proud  admiration  in  his 
glistening  eye.  Her  dark  brown  hair,  falling 
gracefully  over  her  shoulders,  half  veiled  a  face  of 
that  spiritual  kind  of  beauty,  so  difficult  to  de- 
scribe, but  always  so  impressive.  An  artist  might 
have  criticised  her  features  and  pronounced  them 
irregular;  but  the  soul  that  shone  out  from  those 
deep,  loving  eyes,  and  played  in  smiles,  about  a 
mouth  from  which  never  came  an  unkind  word, 
shed  around  her  a  bright  halo,  that  blessed  all 
who  came  within  her  sphere.  George  greatly 
resembled  his  sister,  though  his  face  had  a  more 
restless  expression,  and  revealed  a  love  of  adven- 
ture and  daring  beyond  his  years.  Any  one  who 
gazed  upon  the  group,  would  at  once  know  the 
relationship  they  bore  to  each  other.  Mr.  Ar- 
nold's features  were  so  like  those  of  his  children, 
yet  were  cast  in  a  true  manly  mould,  and  sub- 
'  dued  by  past  suffering. 

'Saucy  boy,'  said  the  sister,  'you  owe  me 
an  hours  work  in  my  garden.  Look  for  it 
to-morrow,  or  no  more  romping  for  the  remain- 
der of  the  week.'  An  hour's  work  in  Nelly's 
garden  was  often  a  penalty  for.  these  acts  of 
mischief. 

'  Sister,'  said  the    boy,    '  I  was  afraid  when 
mamma  and  brothers  went  to  IJeaven,  and  we 
3  * 


w 


31  LABOR    AXD    LOVE: 

came  to  live  here,  thai  we  should  be  very  dull, 
at  lcasl  that  I  should  have  no  one  to  play  with  ; 
but  though  you  arc  grown  a  woman,  you  love  a 
game  with  little  George;  and  yet,  sister  dear,' 
he  continued*  as  he  twined  his  arms  about  her 
neck,  -1  believe  you  play  with  me  sometimes 
when  you  had  rather  be  sewing  or  reading.' 

She  wished  him  to  think  differently,  but  would 
not  deceive  him.  Her  looks  admitted  the  truth 
of  what  he  said. 

'I  knew  it. —  I  knew  it.  Dear,  dear  Nelly, 
how  I  love  you  for  this.  1  must  try  more  than 
ever  to  be  good.' 

1  My  son,'  said  Mr.  Arnold.  '  it  not  for  you 
alone  that  your  sister  surrenders  her  own  wishes. 
You  know  when  I  resigned  the  living  I  form- 
erly held  our  income  was  greatly  reduced,  and 
we  were  obliged  to  limit  our  expenses.  Then 
Nelly  took  upon  herself  pari  of  the  household 
worlc.  and  gave  up  some  of  her  favorite  studies, 
to  make  our  home  more  beautiful  and  happy; 
and  that  she  mighl  help  me  in  my  labors  among 
the  poor  and  ignorant.' 

'Dearest  papa,' rejoined  Ellen, 'what  are  the 
sacrifices  I  have  made,  compared  with  the  noble 
disinterestedness  of  your  own  conduct,  in  not 
only  renouncing  wealth,  but  the  society  of  which 
you  were  so  bright  an  ornament,  even  exposing 


m 

A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  35 

yourself  to  slander  and  misrepresentation,  thai 
you  might  be  one  with  the  despised  jtW(1  lowly? 
Speak  not*  of  me,' she  added  with  enthusiasm, 
'but  to  teach  me  to  labor  with  you  more  effectu- 
ally,  and  to  cultivate  a  more  fervent  spirit.' ' 

'  Papa,'  said  George,  ''  I  want  to  do  some- 
thing for  you.  Is  there  anything  a  little  boy 
can  do  ? ' 

'  Many  Things,'  replied  Mr.  Arnold  with  an 
encouraging  smile.  '  But  it  is  now  growing  late 
Call  Susan  in  to  prayers.  You  have  sat  up 
beyond  your  usual  time.' 

How  sweetly  sounded  the  evening  hymn  in 
their  secluded  home.  How  pure  the  worship  of 
such  loving  hearts.  As  the  good  pastor  invoked 
a  blessing  on  his  children,  and  the  faithful  do- 
mestie  who  had  clung  to  them  in  every  change, 
the  presence  of  those,  whose  voices  once  joined 
in  their  devotions,  was  felt,  —  the  loved  ones 
long  since  passed  from  mortal  vision  were  re- 
membered there. 

Before  they  parted  for  the  night,  .Air.  Arnold 
told  his  daughter  that  he  wished  her  to  accom- 
pany him  on  the  morrow  to  the  house  of  a 
highly  esteemed  friend. 

'  His  name  is  Herbert,  my  dear,  one  of  those 
true-hearted  men  who  ennoble  their  station,  and 
who  would,  I  believe,  were  they  more  numerous, 


36  LABOR    AND    LOVE  : 

redeem  tteir  country.  I  wish  there  were  many 
Herberts™ 

'  Let  n>  labor  in  hope,  and  depend  upon  it  the 
nnmbei  will  increase.  We  shall  succeed  iii  our 
efforts,  dear  papa,  I  know  we  shall.  Surely  you 
cannot  doubt  it.' 

'  Bless  you.  my  child,  for  your  earnest  faith. 
The  work  i-  God's  and  must  proper,  Good 
night,  dearest.' 

'  Good  night,  papa.' 

English  life!  What  a  Labyrinth  is  presented 
to  our  view,  as  winding  with  difficulty  through 
its  varied  mazes,  we  endeavor  to  find  some  path 

ling      t"     clearer    pro-peel-.     -.'MM'      el  i  line  nee, 

whence  we  may  truly  survey  this  Lrreat  mystery 
of  humanity. 

•  mused  ('lenient  Arnold,  when  leaning  from 
his  window  in  the  brighi  moonlight,  he  became 
unconscious  even  of  the  glorious  scene  upon 
which  he  had  been  gazing,  as  blending  with  his 
higher  nature,  it  inspired  new  desires  of  use- 
fulness and  loftier  aspirations  for  the  elevation 
of  mankind.  Day  after  day  did  this  noble  man 
labor  in  the  good  cause  ;  nighl  after  nighl  were 
his  meditations  renewed,  when  all  around  was 
still,  and  heavenly  messages  were  borne  upon 
the  breeze  to  the  open  and  waiting  soul.  At  this 
solemn  time  he  felt  more  than  ever  the  nearn 
of  Deity,  and  bowed  reverently  to  the  divine  influ- 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE. 


37 


ence  and  will.  There  lay  the  secret  Af  his  suc- 
cess. His  greal  work  was  nurtured  m  solitude, 
by  devour*  contemplation,  and  intimate  com- 
munion with  the  great  Source  of  all  good. 
-Trusting  in  a  higher  Power,  he  carried  into  daily 
duty  ;i  mighty  spirit  of  love,  a  zeal  that  never 
yielded  to  difficulty  or  opposition. 

This  night,  his  mind  wandered  with  unusual 
rapidity  through  the  intricate  mazes  of  society: 
now  rejoicing  amid  the  brighl  flowers  with  which 
love  and  truth  adorned  many  a  happy  home- 
stead;  now  mourning  over  divided  hearts,  and 
dwellings  uncheered  by  the  hallowed  lighl  of 
affection  ;  where  Paith  and  Duty  lay  trampled 
in  the  dust,  and  tie-  young  spirit,  crushed  in  its 
earliest  endeavors  soughl  in  vain  for  sympathy 
to  guide  it  onward.  He  felt  how  the  whole 
social  system  was  affected  by  these  influent 
how  even  the  character  of  a  nation  received  the 
impress  of  its  homes.  The  spirit  of  the  good 
pastor  was  stirred  within  him  as  he  reflected 
upon  haughty  pride  oppressing  the  poor,  i 
and  affluence  closing  man's  heart  against  his 
brother:  how  toiling  thousands  struggled  on, un- 
cultured and  unfed;  how  the  vicious  lived  on 
unreclaimed,  because  unforgiven  and  uncared 
for;  and  he  bowed  his  head  in  penitence  and 
pity  for  erring,  suffering  man.     He  longed  for 


38  LABOR    AND    LOVE  : 


power  tojuveep  these  evils  from  the  earth,  but 
trusted  in  uod  to  raise  up,  in  his  own  good  time, 
a  race  of  men  who  should  work  out  the  mighty 
change,  in  the  name  of  Him  whose  laws  were 
graven  on  their  hearts.  When  Clement  Arnold 
thought  of  his  own  limited  Bphere  of  action,  and 
the  immense  power  o(  evil  in  the  world,  he  was 
bewildered  and  cast  down;  l>nf  as  the  whisper- 
ing breeze  conveyed  to  his  soul  tidings  of  the 
greal  Fathers  love  to  his  children,  of  the  divine 
germs  enshrined  in  every  human  form,  the 
worth  of  his  Labor  of  love  was  understood  and 
acknowledged. 

He  lav  down  to  rest  in  peace,  with  the  ele- 
ments of  a  new  undertaking  in  his  mind  for  the 
welfare  of  his  beloved  people. 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  39 


CHAPTER    VI. 

'  True  piety  is  cheerful  as  the  ilay.'  —  Cuv.  per. 

'  Children,  let  the  graces  of  childhood  elevate  our  souls,  and  purify 
us  of  all  contamination  of  anger,  and  wrath,  an  I  hastiness  in  your 
education.  May  your  love  animate  our  hearts,  ami  refresh  our 
spirits,  that  we  may  not  grow  weary  in  the  duties  of  our  office. 

Pes  i'alozzi. 

Next  morning  Ellen  Arnold  rose  with  the 
lurk.  Gay  as  that  joyous  bird,  and  bright  as  the 
mora  itself,  she  went  through  her  early  duties. 
Her  face  wore  an  expression  of  unusual  impor- 
tance, for  she  had  much  to  do  in  the  house,  and 
many  calls  to  make,  before  she  could  accompany 
her  father.  Soon  after  her  work  was  finished, 
she  Idled  a  small  basket  with  ripe  fruits,  and 
other  little  delicacies,  and  made. up  a  parcel  of 
books  ;  then  tying  on  a  neat  straw  bonnet,  orna- 
mented with  a  wreath  twined  by  George,  kissed 
her  father  and  gave  the  basket  to  her  brother, 
who  was  often  her  companion  on  these  excur- 
sions.    The  walk  was   delightful  in  itself,  but 


40  LABOR    AND    LOVE  ! 

their  chief  pleasure  was  derived  from  the  good 
to  v\  Inch  il  w  as  made  subservient. 

'Let  us  call  ai  Mrs.  Mason's  first,  GeoTge.  I 
am  bo  anxious  about  Little  Frederick.' 

They  approached  the  door  which  was  already 
open.  A.  little  girl,  who  sat  there  sewing,  rose 
to  receive  them. 

'  How  is  your  brother,  Sally?'  asked  Ellen 
as  they  entered  ihe  house. 

■ 

'Thank  you,  ma'am ;  be  is  so  much  better 
that  the  doctor  says  he  may  comedown  stairs 

to-day.      Jle    is    very  weak,  luit    I  may  BOOH  take 

him   out   iu  the  fresh  air,  and  then  he  will  grow 
strong  again.     I'll  nin  and  call  mother.' 

Mrs.  Mason  booh  appeared  and  Ellen  followed 
her  up  etairs.  They  returned  in  ;i  few  minute-, 
having  left  the  Little  invalid  in  a  refreshing  sleep. 

'II      does    indeed    -eeln    fast    improving,'    ob- 
served  Ellen.       '  I  have  brought  another  glae 
jelly  for  him.  and  will  send  something  nourishing 
during  the  day.    But  I  must  not  forget  this  book 
tor  Betse) .' 

The  child  received  it  with  an  intelligent  smile 
that  told  how  highly  she  valued  the  gift,  as  she 
modestly  thanked  her  kind  leaci 

•  Nelly,'  said  George  as  they  left  the  hou 
'  you   are    like   one   of  those    Bisters   of  mercy 

papa  read  about  the  other  day,  only  not  quite  bo 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  41 

serious.  It  don't  seem  natural  or  right  to  look 
gloomy  when  we  are  happy.  Do  you  think  so, 
Bister  ?  '  * 

'Not  gloomy,  George,  certainly,  though  we 
may  sometimes  appear  very  serious.' 

'  Then  how  is  ii  thai  Miss  Moreland,  Mr. 
Woodward  and  his  wife,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Sharpe  look  and  speak  so  solemnly?' 

'I  cannol  tell ;  perhaps  they  are  no!  happy.' 

'But  they  must    be  happy,  sister,   for  Susan 

they     profess     religion     and     teaeh     it     to 
others.' 

Profess^  indeed,  rose  to  Ellen's  lips,  but  she 
checked  herself.  She  was  puzzled  how  to  an- 
swer, and   determined   to  refer  George  to  her 

father. 

They  had  nol   proceeded  far  before  they  met 
Miss    Moreland,  who    had    been    attending   the 
school  established  by  Mr.  Arnold    for   the  poor 
'children  o(  the  district. 

'  Good  morning,  Miss  Arnold.  I  am  glad  to 
meet  you,  for  I  want  your  sympathy  and  assist- 
ance." 

'  I  shall  be  happy  to  render  any  service  in  my 
power.'  rejoined  Ellen.  *  lias  anything  partic- 
ularly unfortunate  occurred  ?' 

'  Npt  exactly.  I  have  met  with  very  disre- 
spectful treatment,  most  ungrateful  treatment, 


1 2  LABOR    AND    LOVE  : 

from  those  low  people  and  their  children, —  1 
mean  the  Bartons.' 

'What  have  they  done,  Miss  Moreland?  You 
will  at  least  forgive  the  children,  I  am  sure.' 

'  Why  as  to  forgiving  them,  ii  is  hm  right  to 
do  so.  mid  I  suppose  1  must.  But  really.  Miss 
Arnold,  I  cannot  consenl  to  visit  people  who  art' 
not  even  civil,  or  go  any  longer  to  your  school  to 
teach  tinir  nnk.  untrained  girls.  If  they  would 
only  behave  with  propriety,  J  would  not  care, 
but  ii  is  shocking  to  a  sensitive  mind  to  witness 
their  conduct' 

'  Then  do  you   intend  to  forsake  your  work  '.' 

'I  i\o,  and  .-hall  send  in  my  resignation  to- 
morrow. Why,  with  attending  the  day  and 
Sunday  school,  visiting  the  poor,  and  various 
other  labors  your  father  thinks  it  our  duty  to 
perform.  I  find  no  time  for  religious  exercises.' 

Ellen  fell  inclined  to  ask.  whether  she  was  not 
about  resigning  some  of  the  highest  exercises  of 
religion,  but  thought  it  best  to  be  silent,  and 
wished  Miss  Moreland  good  morning. 

As  .Mrs.  Barton's  house  was  in  their  way,  Ellen 
determined  to  call,  and  endeavor  to  ascertain 
the  real  cause  of  otlence.  They  found  the 
mother  surrounded  by  her  little  family.  Three 
of  the  children,  who  had  just  returned  from 
school,  betrayed  signs  of  discontent  and  weep? 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  43 

ing.  The  moment  George  and  his  sister  entered, 
there  was  a  brightening  np  of  faces,  and  such 
a  joyous  shout  of  recognition  as  gave  assurance 
that  all  was  not  wrong. 

After  some  conversation  with  Mrs.  Barton, 
Ellen  turned  to  the  children,  and  inquired  why 
they  had  been  crying,  and  appeared  so  much 
troubled  when  she  came  in.  They  all  looked 
ashamed  and  hung  down  their  heads.  '  '  Come, 
Emma,'  said  she,  addressing  the  eldest,  'let  me 
know.     1  am  sure  you  are  not  afraid.' 

'  Oh  no,  dear  Miss  Arnold,  I  love  you  too 
well  for  that;  but  you  will  not  be  pleased  to 
hear.' 

'  Still,  Emma,  it  is  right  I  should  know  the 
cause.' 

'  Well,  ma'am,  this  morning  I  could'nt  say  my 
Lesson,  and  Miss  Moreland  was  very  angry,  and 
called  me  an  idle  girl.  She  looked  so  dreadfully 
at  me,  and  made  me  stand  in  the  corner  of  the 
room.  Then  I  began  to  feel  like  I  used  to  do, 
before  you  taught  me  how  wrong  it  was,  to  wish 
to  harm  those  who  spoke  unkindly  to  me.  I 
threw  mv  book  on  the  floor,  and  told  her  I 
would'nf  learn  at  all.' 

'  Emma,  Emma,  how  sad,'  said  her  kind  friend, 
in  such  a  tone  of  sorrowful  reproach,  that  the 
child  sobbed  as  if  her  heart  would  break,  and  it 
was  some  minutes  ere  she  spoke  again. 


44  LABOR   AND    LOVE ! 

'  As  soon  as  I  had  done  it,  I  felt  sorry,  but 
didn't  like  to  tell  Miss  M oreland,  for  I  was  fright- 
ened at  her.  she  spoke  so  loud.  Then  she  gave  me 
te  verses  in  the  Bible  to  learn  for  a  task  ;  I 
couldn't  say  them  over,  for  I  remembered  how 
good  I  iVlt  when  yon  read  them  to  ns,  and 
talked  so  beautifully  about  them.  They  didn't 
in  to  mean  the  same  then.' 

Her  voice,  broken  by  sobs,  the  child  with  diffi- 
culty told  her  simple  tale,  and  stood  completely 
subdued  before  her  friend,  who  parted  from  her 
sorrowfully.  Baying  she  would  soon  see  her  again. 
Ellen  then  turned  to  the  mother,  and  requested 
her  to  keep  the  children  at  home  for  a  few  days. 
till  she  could  make  some  different  arrangement 
for  them  in  the  school. 

'  If  I  might  lake  the  liberty  of  making  a  re- 
mark. Miss  Arnold,'  said  Mrs.  Barton  with  an 
inquiring  look  — 

'  By  all  mean-.  Speak  freely,'  replied  her 
visitor. 

'  Well,  Miss,  my  husband  often  says  he  wants 
no  religion  here,  religious  folks  seem  so  proud 
and  severe.  1  \\<c(\  to  think  him  right,  for  I 
know  many  who  profess  to  be  very  pious,  yet 
they  never  look  happy,  and  cannot  smile,  or 
laugh  outright  in  a  natural  way.  Then  they  are 
for  ever  talking  about  their  own  sins,  or  some  one 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  45 

else's.  I  never  knew  it  do  any  good  yet,  and  it 
never  will,  unless  they  try  to  make  people  better ; 
and  whining* and  finding  fault  is  the  wrong  way 
to  set  about  it.' 

Ellen  signified  her  assent,  and  Mrs.  Barton 
proceeded  — 

'  Just  what  I  want  to  say  is  this,  Miss  Arnold. 
I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  such  people 
don't  know  what  religion  means,  and  that  you 
and  your  papa  do.  I  have  thought  this  ever  since 
my  girls  went  to  your  class  in  the  Sunday  school, 
and  you  taught  them  to  feel  the  good  in  their 
hearts  as  well  as  the  bad.  and  to  love  one  another 
better  than  they  used  to  do.  1  hope  you  will 
pardon  my  boldness,  Miss;  but  if  some  persons 
would  not  treat  poor  ignorant  folk  as  if  they 
were  altogether  bad,  they  would  make  many  of 
us  better.' 

'  I  understand  it  all,'  said  Ellen,  '  and  should 
like  to  speak  with  you  on  this  subject.  I  can- 
not stay  longer  now,  but  will  call  again  very 
soon.' 

Taking  a  hasty  leave,  she  thoughtfully  pur- 
sued her  walk.  George  had  heard  too  much  to 
talk  any  more  just  then,  and  reserved  his  inqui- 
ries till  a  future  time.  Many  more  calls  were 
made.  George  read  to  some  boys  who  were  ill, 
while  his  sister  was  engaged  with  their  mothers. 


46  L.vnou  AND  love  : 

They  distributed  their  parcel  of  books  among 
Nelly's  pupils,  and  returned  home  later  than 
usual,  for  it  had  been  one  of  the  mosl  bus) 
mornings  in  their  experience. 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  47 


CHAPTER    VII. 

'  The  good,  the  loved,  are  with  us  though  they  die  ; 
We  think  of  them  as  angels  in  the  sky  ; 
But  the  deej)  firmament  divides  us  not, 
They're  with  u*  in  the  densest  crowd,  and  in  the  loneliest  spot.' 

1  With  voice,  and  eye.  and  with  the  thrilling  smile, 
They  answer  not  as  they  were  wont  erewhile. 
But  when  deep  yearnings  all  our  spirits  move, 
Their  spirit  softly  whisper  us,  respoasively,  "  We  love  !  "  ' 

S-  C.  E.  Mayo. 

The  newly  risen  sun  smiled  upon  the  grass) 
graves  of  ;t  little  church-yard  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Birmingham.  A  lovely  spot,  where 
faithful  hearts  might  commune  undisturbed, with 

their  friends  of  the  spin!  land.  The  church  itself 
was  an  antique  structure,  and  harmonized  with 
the  quiet  beauty  of  the  surrounding  scene,  which 
was  visited  by  few,  save  those  who  had  some 
dear  relative  reposing  amid  its  seclusion.  Many 
of  the  oldest  graves  were  deserted,  time  having 
wrought  out  eventful  changes  in  the  lives  of 
survivors,  and  left  few  traces  of  the  past  in  their 
early  home. 


48  LABOR    AND    LOVE  : 

There  was  a  small  grave  under  the  shadow  of 
.some  noble  old  trees.  Around  it  bent  a  family 
group  in  silent  reverence.  Jt  was  the  resting- 
place  of  Edward  Herbert,  the  cherished  child, 
who  still  lived  in  the  affections  of  the  lender 
guardians  of  his  infant  years,  and  whose  meni- 
ory  linked  their  beloved  home  with  that  more 
blissful  one,  to  which  he  would  welcome  them 
hereafter. 

1  We  have  found  the  blessing  we  sought  in 
this  sacred  communion,'  said  Herbert,  as  they 
tinned  to  depart.  '  I  believe  we  are  now  better 
prepared  for  the  social  intercourse  that  awaits 
us.  My  children  strew  your  flowers,  and  fasten 
that  tender  plant  that  is  drooping  for  want  of 
support.  Come,  let  us  welcome  our  friends 
with  cheerful  heart-,  and  show  our  gratitude  to 
Heaven,  by  loving  service  to  them.  No  look  of 
gloom  should  over.-hadow  a  trust  like  our-.' 

The  home  of  the  Herberts  was,  if  possible, 
brighter  than  usual.  Charlotte  and  her  brother 
adorned  the  parlor  with  flowers  and  evergreens, 
and  furnished  a  summer  arbor  they  had  erected 
close  to  William's  tiny  garden,  with  a  table  and 
some  chairs  from  the  kitchen.  They  purposed 
taking  tea  therewith  their  youthful  companions, 
for,  as  Charlotte  observed,  they  could  not  all  sit 
comfortably  in  the  parlor,  and  it  would  be  such 


A    TALK    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  49 

a  treat  to  take  tea  out  of  doors,  with  the  little 
set  of  china  father  had  presented  to  her,  when 
only  eight  ^ears  old,  and  which  she  had  treas- 
ured so  carefully,  that  not  a  piece  of  it.  was 
broken.  And  they  would  have  Edward's  chair, 
too,  and  perhaps  he  would  be  with  them,  though 
they  could  not  see  him.  Yes,  she  wa  -  sure  their 
dead  brother  would  remember  his  old  home, and 
sympathize  with  them  this  day  above  all  others 
in  the  year. 

The  morning  hours  glided  .-v,  iftly  past.  After 
dinner.  William  helped  his  sister  to  put  every- 
thing in  order,  thai  their  parents  might  enjoy  a 
quiet  hour  together.  To  Mary  and  her  husband 
these  were  precious  moments.  They  retraced 
the  scenes  o['  their  childhood,  and  lived  again, 
in  the  firsi  dawn  of  th;it  love,  which  animated 
their  early  youth,  shedding  a  chastened  light 
over  every  devious  path,  till  its  full  glory  was 
revealed,  when  it  illumined  the  dark  night  of 
sorrow,  and  dispersed  even  the  shad<  ws  of  the 
grave. 

'  I  am  so  glad  you  asked  Mr.  Arnold  to  come,' 
said  Mary.  '  Of  course,  you  did  not  forget 
Miss  Ellen  and  George." 

•  No,  indeed,  Mary,  they  arc  both  coming.  I 
think  you  told  me  Miss  Arnold  took  especial 
4 


50  LABOR    AND    LOVE : 

notice  of  Alice  Palmer  the  day  they  were  at  our 
house/ 

'  Yes,  she  seemed  quite  interested  in  the  dear 
child,  and  was  much  pleased  with  Lottie's  efforts 
to  help  her  with  her  Lessons.  1  think  Miss  Ellen 
will  take  Alice  into  her  Bchool.' 

•  That  would  be  a  blessing,  Mary.  I  am  glad 
John  and  his  wife  will  meel  our  good  minister 
to-day.     Here  are  the  Palmers  coming.' 

'  Welcome,  welcome,  my  friends,'  said  Her- 
bert, as  he  joyfully  opened  the  door.  Mary 
greeted  them  warmly,  and  kissed  the  baby  as 
she  took  him  from  his  mother. 

'Dear  .lane.  I  am  so  happy  to  see  you.  Come 
up  stair-,  and  take  off  your  bonnet.  Alice,  dear, 
you  will  find  Lottie  in  her  room.  Harry,  go  to 
William  ;   he  is  in  the  arbor  expecting  you.' 

So  saying,  Mrs.  Herbert  with  her  friend  pro- 
ceeded up  staiife.  Placing  a  chair  for  Mrs. 
Palmer,  Mary  sat  down  beside  her,  and  asked 
whether  she  found  her  new  trials  in  housekeep- 
ing very  tedious  ? 

1  Not  tedious,  Mary,  though  I  confess  myself 
most  awkward  in  many  things,  but  by  trying 
again  and  again,  I  generally  succeed  in  the 
end.' 

'  And  find  the  task  easier  than  you   expected, 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  51 

I  have  no  doubt,  Jane.  I  quite  long  to  have  a 
peep  at  your  arrangements.' 

'  You  would  find  them  rather  imperfect  just 
now,  but  with  Alice's  help,  I  hope  to  make  some 
improvement  every  day.  Really,  that  child  sur- 
prises me  by  her  activity.'  She  flits  about  like  a 
busy  bee,  putting  everything  in  place  so  neatly. 
Why,  the  cupboard  and  pantry,  that  used  to  be 
in  such  a  litter,  look  so  nice,  I  am  loth  to  close 
the  door  when  I  go  to  cither  of  them.  Don't 
you  think  it  strange,  that  she  should  form 
such  good  habits,  after  being  so  long  neg- 
lected?' 

'  I  believe  it  to  be  a  natural  result  of  the 
method  of  training  you  have  adopted,'  replied 
Mary.  '  Had  you  merely  told  her  that  certain 
duties  wen-  required  of  her,  obedience  would 
have  been  difficult,  although  you  continually 
enforced  it.  Children  acting  from  habit  alone 
grow  mechanical,  and  live  an  unreal  life.' 

'Dear  Mary,  I  have  felt  this  in  my  own  experi- 
ence, for  I  always  knew  my  duty,  but  wanted 
that  life  within,  which  gives  birth  to  right  action. 
You  awakened  conscience  and  disinterested 
affection  in  my  soul,  then  every  day  some  good 
work  came  into  being.' 

'  It  is  even  so  with  us  all,  Jane.  Conscience 
and  love  must  be  awakened,  and  united  in  the 


52  LABOR    AND    LOVE: 

soul,  ere  it  can  become  the  birthplace  of  those 
holv  resolutions,  that  grow  into  acts  of  benevo- 
lence. Do  you  not  feel  strongesl  in  duty,  when 
moBl  dependenl  upon  ( rod  '.  ' 

'  I  do  at  such  times  feel  inspired  with  unusual 
power.  Wfiy,  the  other  day,  when  Alice  was 
from  home,  there  was  much  extra  work  to  be 
(lone,  and  1  fell  almost  sinking  with  fatigue.  A 
cheering  sense  of  ( rod's  presence  came  over  me. 
I  thoughl  of  his  goodness,  of  raj  husband'i 
labors  for  as  all,  of  the  love  <>f  my  sweet  Alice, 
and  the  dependence  of  my  little  ones  upon  my 
care  and  tenderness.  1  raised  my  heart  in  prayer, 
and  through  that  hour  of  weariness,  worked 
more  cheerfully  than  before.' 

'Such  trusl  will  be  your  strength  in  every 
trial.*  said  Mary,  tears  of  sympathy  glistening  in 
her  eyes.  '  1  think  1  hear  Mr.  Arnold's  voice 
down  Btairs.     Shall  we  go  I ' 

As  they  anticipated,  they  found  him  in  the 
parlor.  Mrs.  Palmer  soon  felt  so  much  at  ease, 
that  she  could  answer  Mr.  Arnold's  kind  inqui- 
about  her  family,  without  the  leasl  reserve. 
Ellen,  who  had  been  visiting  the  arbor,  now 
came  in,  and  after  greeting  Mary  and  Jane,  in- 
formed the  latter  that  she  could  find  room  for 
Alice  in  her  school,  if  agreeable  to  her  parents. 

This  kind  offer  was  thankfully  accepted,  and 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  53 

it  was  agreed,  thai   not  only  Alice,  but  Harry 
should  be  admitted  after  the  next  vacation. 

As  evening  advanced,  the  boys  and  girls  drew 
around  the  table  in  the  kitchen,  amusing  them- 
selves with  a  large  scrap-book,  games  of  ilow* 
ers,  riddles,  &c.  After  a  time  these  were  laid 
aside,  and  the  sweet  angel-child,  whose  birth 
they  held  in  long  remembrance,  became  the 
theme  of  discourse.  Long  did  they  speak  of  his 
patience,  his  gentle  affection,  and  all  his  win- 
ning ways,  till  they  almost  longed  to  share  his 
freedom.  Then  they  sang  together  beautiful 
hymns,  and  songs  of  childhood,  till  the  time  of 
parting  drew  near. 

The  inmates  of  the  parlor  were  not  Less  happi- 
ly engaged.  Mr.  Arnold  and  Herbert  wished  to 
render  this  day  memorable,  by  some  new  effort 
for  the  benefit  of  the  working  men  and  women 
of  the  surrounding  district.  They  had  both 
deeply  studied  the  great  problems  of  social  life, 
and  mourned  over  the  evils  they  could  not  re- 
move. In  every  public  movement  for  the  relief 
of  suffering  humanity  they  were  united,  and 
together  had  they  solemnly  pledged  themselves 
to  work  with  steadfast,  untiring  vigor,  for  the 
sacred  rights  of  man.  There  had  been  times  in 
their  experience,  when  hope  almost  failed  them; 
when  visions  rose  before  their  view,  of  starving 


54  LABOR    AND    LOVE : 

women,  working  away  life  in  some  wretched 
garret,  amid  the  dark  alleys  of  London,  for  a 
pittance,  only  sufficient  to  keep  up  the  sense  of 
misery  and  want;  or  some  high-souled  man, 
toiling  day  and  night,  for  wages,  upon  which 
his  family  could  not,  with  the  severest  care,  sub- 
sist. Scenes  like  these  sometimes  bowed  even 
their  strong  spirits,  because  of  their  powerless- 
ness  to  effeel  a  deliverance.  Firm  faith  alone 
supported  them,  as  they  turned  their  attention 
to  the  evils  by  which  they  were  more  imme- 
diately encompassed. 

•Mr.  Arnold.' said  Herbert,  '  I  have  been  try- 
ing to  persuade  my  friend  Palmer  to  join  us  in 
our  project,  but  he  has  such  a  modesl  opinion 
of  his  own  ability,  the  task  is  difficult.  "Will 
you  undertake  it   .'  * 

1  I  think  Mr.  Arnold  will  perfectly  agree  with 
me  about  my  inability.*  remarked  Palmer.  'A 
man  only  just  rising  to  a  true  sense  of  manhood, 
would  be  a  poor  instrument  to  teach  others  their 
rights  and  duties.' 

'  But,'  said  the  kind  pastor,  taking  his  hand, 
'  if  I  understand  aright,  you  have  not  only 
forsaken  the  old  paths,  but  are  making  rapid 
progress  in  a  better  way.  I  have  proof  of  won- 
derful advancement  already.  One  question, 
Have  you  the  will  to  aid  our  work?' 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE. 


55 


1  Heaven  knows  my  sincerity,  when  I  say  my 
whole  heart  is  with  yon.  If  I  could  do  anything 
to  further  it,  my  happiness  would  be  greatly  in- 
creased.' 

1  You  can  do  much,  John.  Come,  Herbert,  let 
us  to  business.  With  the  help  of  your  wives, 
and  my  Ellen  here,  we  may  perhaps  lay  out  a 
plan  that  will  lead  to  wondrous  results.' 

'  Papa,'  said  Ellen,  '  I  am  growing  impatient, 
and  would  come  to  the  point  at  <u\rc  What 
do  you  propose  doing?  And  how  can  we 
women  help  you  ?' 

'  You  know  my  dear,'  returned  her  father,  'it 
has  long  been  my  conviction,  that  if  the  work- 
ing classes  arc  to  become  intelligent  and  re- 
spected, they  must  not  wait  to  be  acted  upon 
by  others,  but  from  themselves  must  spring  the 
high  resolve,  to  break  the  fetters  of  ignorance 
and  oppression,  by  which  so  many  of  them  are 
enslaved.  More  prosperous  men  may  aid  and 
encourage,  but  theirs  must  be  the  struggle  and 
the  victory.' 

'  But,  papa,  they  are  generally  so  powerless, 
and  insensible  to  their  condition  ! ' 

'  Then  be  it  ours,  my  child,  in  our  small 
sphere,  to  stir  up  some  to  action.  That  there 
are  great  spirits  among  them,  we  have  glorious 
proof;  many,  too,  who   arc  not  chained  down 


56  L.uiou  am)  love  : 

by  poverty  and  wrong.  These  axe,  after  all,  the 
men  v.  e  want.' 

'  I  think,'  observed  Mrs.  He  thai  one  of 

our  greatesl  faults  is,  that  restless  desire  so  com- 
mon among  as,  of  striving  to  mingle  only  with 
those  whose  position  is  considered  superior  to 
our  own.  to  the  exclusion  of  old  associates. 
The  working  man  Borely  ought  not  to  forsake 
his  fellows,  if  his  mind  becomes  elevated  above 
theirs,  bui  rather  strive  to  raise  them  too,  by 
kindly  sympathy  and  benevolent  exertion.' 

*I  perfectly  agree  with  you,'  returned  hex 
husband;  'and  believe,  thai  if  we  were  only 
true  to  ourselves,  we  need  not  seek  the  society 
of  more  intelligent  and  influential  people  ;  they 
would  naturally  mingle  with  us  in  perfect  equal- 
ity, and  the  idea  of  patronage  would  be  ban- 
ished for  ever.' 

•  And  as  a  prelude  to  such  a  change  in  this 
district,  at  least,  suppose  we  try  to  form  our 
societ '  •"  said  Mr.  Arnold. 

•  Now    papa  is  coming  u>  the  point  at  la 
remarked  Ellen,  smiling  gaily  at  .Mrs.  Herbert. 
'  We  must  expect  our  share  of  work,  he  Knows 
we  can  accomplish  it  so  well.' 

'You  must  prove  that  Nelly,  before  I  assent 
to  it,'  returned  her  father,  at  the  same  time  look- 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIKE. 


57 


ing  as  though  he  had  never  doubted  her  power 
truly  to  perform  any  good  work  she  undertook. 

Mrs.  Palmer,  who  had  been  an  attentive  lis- 
tener while  quietly  nursing  her  babe,  now  drew 
her  chair  nearer  to  Ellen,   anxious   to  hear  more. 

'  What  name  do  you  purpose  giving  our  asso- 
ciation, Herbert  ?' inquired  Mr.    Arnold. 

'  I  think  the  Fraternal  Union  would  be  an 
appropriate  title.     Wha1  do  you  say,  John  I ' 

'  Nothing  could  do  better,  in  my  opinion,' 
replied  Palmer.  •  it  bo  well  expresses  the  relation 
its  members  will  bear  to  each  other.' 

'The  very  thing  papa,9  added  Ellen;  •  \«>u 
could  not  have  chosen  a  more  appropriate  name 
yourself.' 

'  Now  for  the  objects  of  the  Union.  Will  you 
state  them.  Sir?' said  Herbert,  turning  to  -Mr. 
Arnold. 

'  Its  first  great  object  will  be.  to  enlighten  the 
working-man  as  to  the  real  dignity  of  labor,  and 
the  position  he  ought  to  occupy  in  society.' 

'  How  do  you  intend  this  to  be  done? '  asked 
Palmer. 

'  By  classes  for  mutual  instruction,  by  lec- 
turer discussions,  and  various  other  means;  but 
above  all,  by  cheerful,  social  intercourse,  and 
forbearance  under  insult  and  misrepresentation.' 

'  And  what  arc  we  women  to  do,  papa  ?  ' 


58  LABOR    AND    LOVE  ! 

1  The  highesl  work  of  all,  my  love.  It  will 
be  for  you  to  enshrine  your  best  sympathies  in 
Jowly  homes,  to  teach  how  the  meanest  olliccs 
arc  ennobled  by  lofty  motives,  how  beauty  and 
refinemenl  may  adorn  even  the  hnmble  dwelling 
of  the  laborer.  Yon  mnsl  penetrate  fearlessly 
into  the  abodes  of  ignorance  and  want,  reliev- 
ing, according  to  your  ability,  the  necessities  of 
the  unfortunate,  and  sometimes,  with  your  own 
hand-,  give  practical  instruction  in  ordinary 
household  duties.  Can  yon  undertake  all  this 
without  shrinking?5  asked  Mr.  Arnold,  turning 
to  hi-  daughter,  and  her  two  friends. 

'  We  ought  not  to  think  of  fear  in  so  holy 
a  work,"  said  .Mrs.  Palmer,  in  a  subdued  tour. 
'  Any  trifling  assistance  I  can  render,  will  only 
be   an  acknowledgment  of  my  own  obligations 

to  those  Who  SOUght  me  OUt,  and  opened    u    new 

life  before  me.'  A-  -lie  -p. ike.  her  tearful  eyes 
were  fixed  on  .Mary,  and  revealed  the  gratitude 
no  words  could  convey. 

■ 

'  We  must  not  impose  much  work  upon  Jane, 
with  a  little  family  like  hers."  rejoined  .Mary. 
'  I  trust  we  shall  all  do  our  parts  ;  and  when  our 
number  increases,  the  labor  can  be  well  divided, 
and  a  complete  system  of  operations  organized.' 

'  How  would  you  announce  our  wish  to  form 
this  society.'"  incpLiired  Palmer  of  Mr.  Arnold. 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE. 


59 


'I  intend  making  it  a  subject  of  a  discourse 
next  Sunday,  and,  with  your  approval,  my  friends 
will  cause  "some  primed  notices  of  our  purpose 
to  be  distributed  through  the  district,  with  the 
view  of  shortly  calling  a  meeting  to  take  the 
whole  into  consideration/ 

'  I  have  but  one  fear,  Mr.  Arnold,'  said  Her- 
bert ;  '  and  thai  is,  the  intrusion  of  any  party 
or  sectarian  spirit.' 

'  Against  this  we  mus1  watch  and  pray,  Her- 
bert, and  fail  not  sternly  to  rebuke  any  who  are 
so  presumptuous  as  to  attempt  dominion  over 
the  conscience  of  their  fellow-man.  Let  no  such 
be  admitted  into  our  Union.  1  know  that  party 
spirit  is  rife,  and  sects  are  jealous  of  their  power, 
but  this  is  a  transient  evil,  that  will  eventually 
be  desi roved  by  the  diffusion  of  Christ's  spirit, 
and  more  enlightened  views  of  the  universal 
brotherhood  of  man.' 

'  Another  difficulty  suggests  itself  to  me,  papa,' 
said  Ellen.  '  We  shall  want  money,  and  few 
of  those  likely  to  be  interested  in  this  movement 
are  wealthy  people.' 

'Fear  not,  my  dear  girl ;  I  have  faith  in  the  rich 
ones  of  the  earth,  as  well  as  the  poor  ;  and  be- 
lieve that  when  they  see  the  prosperous  and 
intelligent  among  our  working  population,  tak- 
ing up  the  cause  of  their  depressed  brothers  and 


GO  LABOR    AND    love  : 

sisters,  they  will  come  over  and  help  us.  Few 
among  the  more  wealthy  classes  comprehend 
the  present  condition  of  the  laborer,  or  the  high 
position  lie  ought  to  occupy  in  society.  It  is  for 
those  who  have  learned  these  lessons  by  expe- 
rience to  enlighten  their  understanding,  and 
arouse  them  to  action.' 

'  This  would  seem  1«»  had  us  into  politics  by 
and  by,'  observed  Palmer. 

'If  by  politics  \<ai  mean  the  highest  duties 
of  man  to  man,  regarded  as  members  of  one 
great  family,  certainly,!  replied  Mr.  Arnold; 
'would  that  such  polities  were  more  widely 
diffused.' 

An  animated  conversation  on  the  rights  and 
privileges  of  labor  followed.  Some  observations 
were  made  respecting  details  of  minor  impor- 
tance: then  the  young  people  were  called  in; 
a  parting  hymn  was  sung  ;  after  which  the  be- 
loved pastor  invoked  a  blessing  upon  all  pres- 
ent, and  fervently  thanked  God  for  the  friendly 
intercourse  they  had  enjoyed,  and  for  the  hal- 
lowed influences  bestowed  through  the  memory 
of  the  sacred  dead.  The  happy  party  soon  after 
separated. 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE. 


61 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

'  Lord  !  what  ofT'ring  shall  we  bring) 
At  thine  altars  when  we  bow  .' 
Hearts,  the  pure  unsullied  spring, 
Whence  the  kind  affections  flow  ; 
Soft  compassion's  feeling  soul, 
By  the  melting  eye  expressed  ; 
Sympathy,  at  whose  control, 
Sorrow  leaves  the  wounded  breast.' 

Jane   Taylor. 

Far  distant  from  the  pastor's  peaceful  abode, 
our  attention  is  attracted  to  our  of  those  nar- 
row, unhealthy  streets,  too  well  known  to  the 
working  population  of  England. 

Dirty,  half-clad  children  arc.  day  after  day, 
wandering  about  in  idleness,  it  may  be  joining 
Ln  some  rude  sport,  or  act  or  cruelty ;  while 
coarse  jests  are  heard  among  them,  such  as 
would  crush  the  hopes  of  those  ministering 
angels  of  humanity,  who  labor  for  the  redemp- 
tion of  these  wanderers,  were  they  not  upheld 
by  a  lofty  Christian  heroism,  unconquerable  as 
their  love.  The  houses,  darkened  by  smoke  and 
dirt,  betray  the.   character  of  the  inmates,  and 


62  LABOR    AND    LOVE: 

tell  such  a  history  of  fallen  man,  and  degraded 
womanhood,  thai  to  the  Buperfu  ial  mind  the 
presence  of  God  would  seem  indeed  banished, 
and  his  creatures  utterly  forsaken. 

Late  one  Saturday  night,  a  young  girl  left  one 
of  these  dwellings  whicb  had  a  cleaner  aspect 
than  the  rest,  and  passed  hurriedly  along,  carry- 
ing a  Large  parcel.  She  looked  pale  and  care- 
worn, yel  beauty  and  innocence  reposed  upon 
her  face.  AlVr  walking  through  several  streets, 
she  came  to  one  of  the  principal  thorough- 
fans,  and  entered  a  -hop.  for  tht'  sale  of  ready- 
made  linen  and  fancy  goods.  After  waiting 
some  time,  till  the  shop  was  clear  of  customers, 
the  mistress  came,  and  taking  the  parcel  from 
her.  began  to  examine  its  contents. 

•  Yon  have  done  your  work  well,  Miss  Elliott, 
and  deserve  a  Wetter  price;  but  we  are  obliged 
to  sell  so  cheap,  in  order  to  compete  with  other 
shop-,   that   I  really  cannot  give  more.' 

'  Thank  you.  ma'am,  I  am  quite  satisfied,' 
returned  the  seamstress,  'and  shall  be  glad  of 
as  much  work  as  you  can  supply  me  with.' 

1  Well,  call  again  next  week.'  As  Mrs.  Nor- 
ton looked  into  the  girl's  earnest  face,  so  lovely 
in  its  sorrow,  her  womanly  sympathies  were 
aroused,  and  she  said,  kindly,  '  Perhaps  you 
would  like  something  else  to  do;  shop-work  is 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE. 


63 


very  unprofitable.  I  know  a  lady  who  wants 
a  quantity  qi"  plain  sewing  executed  neatly.  I 
have  not  been  acquainted  with  you  long,  Miss 
Elliott,  but  I  feel  I  can  trust  you.' 

'  Indeed  I  will  strive  to  prove  worthy  of  your 
confidence,'  warmly  responded  the  young  girl. 
1  If  yon  only  knew  my  history  — ' 

'  Well,  my  child,  some  day  we  will  talk  about 
it;  please  write  down  your  address  on  this  bit  of 
paper,  and  I  will  ask  .Miss  Arnold  to  call  upon 
you  on  Monday.' 

Margaret  Elliot!  hesitated  a  moment,  then  in 
a  voice  trembling  with  emotion,  begged  that 
Mrs.  Norton  would  permit  her  to  see  the  lady 
there,  or  at  her  own  house.  Observing  the  in- 
quiring look  now  turned  upon  her,  she  said, 
in  explanation,  'My  room  is  in  such  a  neigh- 
borhood, the  lady  might  not  like  to  come,  per- 
haps, from  appearances,  would  suspect  me,  and 
the   people    with    whom    1    live  are  so  rude  to 


strangere 


'I  see  how  it  is,'  said  her  kind  friend,  'most 
likely  the  lady  to  whom  the  work  belongs  would 
be  rather  squeamish ;  but  she  has  requested 
Miss  Arnold  to  employ  some  one  for  her,  and  if 
she  visits  you,  there  will  be  nothing  to  fear.' 

Mrs.  Norton  told  all  she  knew  about  her  '  dear 
good  minister,'  and  his  family,  again  consoling 


C)[  LABOR    AND    LOTS  ! 

her  young  friend  with  the  assurance  that  she 
need  fear  nothing  from  Miss  Arnold's  calling 
aboul  the  work,  lor  Bhe  was  the  'dearest,  sweet* 
esi  young  ladj  in  the  world.' 

Comforted  and  hopeful,  Margaret  returned  to 
her  lonely  home.  Lonely,  inda  d,  to  her,  for  'h<% 
family  with  whom  Bhe  lived  regarded  her  with 
contempt,  because  Bhe  could  not  conform  '<> 
their  habits,  or  listen  to  the  ill-natured  gossip  of 
her  landlady.  She  soon  reached  her  own  room, 
nail,  meanl)  furnished  garret,  where  she 
could  commune  with  her  boh!  in  peace.  How 
often  in  this  rude  asylum  did  poor  Margaret  lift 
her  hearl  to  God,  and  feel,  in  the  trusting  faith 
bo  largel)  bestowed,  an  earaeel  of  a  brighter 
I'ui  lire 

Monday  morning  brought   new 'anticipations 

and  labors.     The  young  Bean  worked  in  a 

more  hopeful  spirit  than  usual,  often  pausing  in 

employ  nun-.        jhe  woi  \\  ould 

1  her  interview  with  Miss    Arnold 

She  recollected  all   Mrs.   Norton  had  related  of 

Ellen,  and  her  hearl  swelled  with  the  intensity 

of  its    emotions.        Might    she  not  now  find    a 

ad,  Buch  as  she  had  long  prayed  lor.  to  whom 

raid    freely    confide     her    simple    hi^ 

and  struggling  aspirations  after  a  diviner  life? 

rgaret  toiled  on  through  many  solitary  h< 


A    TALK    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE,  65 

4 

absorbed  in  these  meditations,  till  at  length 
overcome  l»)  conflicting  feelings,  she  bowed  her 
head  upon  her  hands,  and  wepl  unrestrainedly. 
She  was  aroused  by  a  gentle  touch,  and  look- 
ing up.  saw  a  lady  bending  over  her,  with  an 
expression  of  most  affectionate  solicitude. 

A  momentary   glance  convinced   her,  thai   it. 

was  none  oilier   than  the    pastor's  daughter  who 

looked  so  lovingly  upon  her.  Rising  in  confusion 
she  offered  a  chair  to  her  visitor,  at  the  same 
time  asking  pardon  for  her  apparenl  rudem 

'It     is    I    who    should    apologize,1    replied     the 

lady,  -for  intruding  upon  you  so  abruptly;  but 
finding  von  did  no1  hear  me  rap.  1  ventured  to 
enter,  as  the  door  was  partially  open.  .Mrs. 
Norton  has  spoken  very  highly  of  you.  and  said 
it'  I  mentioned  my  name,  yon  would  knowr  the 
reason  o\  my  visit,  and  were  probably  expecting 
me  to  call  to-day,  I  am  Ellen  Arnold,  and  if 
you  will  permit  me  —  your  friend.  Come,  sit 
down  by  me.' 

This  wa<  said  with  stu-h  earnestness  and  sin- 
cerity, the  countenance  oi'  the  speaker  beaming 
with  a  smile  so  benevolent,  that  Margaret  felt 
drawn  towards  her  by  an  irresistible  attraction., 

'  Before  we  go  to  business,  Margaret,  I  would 
know  something  of  your  present  sit  nation  ;  not 
to  gratify  an  idJe  curiosity,  but  that  we  may 
5 


G6  LABOR    AND    LOYE  : 

I 

understand  each  other  better.     Airs.  Norton  told 
mr  Bhe  feared  you  were  not  happy  in  this  hou« 

thai  the  people  were  so  ru<le  and  selfish,  you 
must  be  verj  desolate.1 

•  Mine  is  indeed  a  cheerless  home,  Mi—  Ar- 
nold. Nut  I  am  at  least  peaceful  in  it.  Tor  while 
my  rent  is  regularly  paid,  no  one    intrudes  upon 

me.     Yet  it  i-  sad  to  feel  deserted  and  alone  in 
this  wide  world.' 

'Havi  \ou  no  relatives?'  asked  Ellen.  'Arc 
all  —  dead  .' '  Bhe  would  have  -aid.  Inn  her  tongue 
refused  to  utter  the  word.  A  look  of  anguish  on 
Marga/et'a  face  revealed  the  utter  desolation  of 

the  poor  girl.       For  BOme  moments  they  -at  hand 

in  hand,  too  lnueli  moved  to  -peak.     Ellen  was 
the  lir.-t  to  recover  herself.' 

•  Mv  dear  Margaret,  I  understand  much  more 
than  you  have  Bpoken,  and  should  rejoice  to 
serve  yon, but  <h>  no-  [early  what  is  besl  to 
be  doii'.  There  musl  be  some  Btrange  reason 
for  your  living  here.  Would  you  not  like  a  more 
suitable  residence  .' ' 

'Oh!  what  a  blessing  to  toil  for.  hut  it  would 
be  loiu_r.  very  long  before  1  could  earn  enough  to 
free  myself.  Dear  Mi—  Arnold,  there  is  a  debt 
owing  bo  large  that  — ' 

'A   debt!      Your   rent    has  been    punctually 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  67 

| 

paid,  if  I  understand  aright1     Ellen  looked  at 
her  companion  in  surprise. 

'  It  is  u  sorrow  I'ul  story,'  pursued  Margaret, 
'but  if  you  will  allow  me  to  relate  some  inci- 
dents i>f  my  pasl  life,  you  will  better  compre- 
hend my  present  position,  which  is  one  of 
extreme  difficulty.' 

'  Tell  me  without  reserve,  my  dear  girl  I  am 
deeply  interested  in  your  welfare.  You  appeal 
young  to  have  Buffered  bo  much,  —  younger  than 
I  am  certainly.' 

•  My  seventeenth  birthday  has  jusl  passed,  but 
I  often  think  myself  older,  —  life  passes* on  so 
heavily.' 

k  I  hope  we  shall  soon  lighten  its  burdens,'  said 
Ellen,  as  she  drew  closer  to  Margaret,  and  gently 
placing  her  arm  round  her  waist, listened  with 
eagerness  to  the  promised  recital. 

'  It  is  about  ten  years,'  began  .Margaret,  '  since 
my  dear  father  died.  Before  that  time  I  knew 
no  grief  that  was  not  easily  soothed  by  a  pa- 
rent's love.  We  resided  in  a  pretty  cottage, 
about  a  mile  from  town,  my  mother's  excellent 
management  enabling  us  to  live  respectably, 
with  such  slender  means  as  many  of  our  neigh- 
bors would  have  thought  it  impossible  to  subsist 
upon,  for  my  father  earned  but  small  wages, 
though  he  worked  very  hard.     I  recollect  well 


CS  LADOR    AND    LOVE  '. 

I 

the  pains  he  took  to  cultivate  our  little  garden, 
and  my  mother  assisting  him  in  this  pleasant 
labor,  while  I  often  stood  by  holding  seeds,  and 
occ  isionally  being  permitted  to  sow  them  myself. 
Those  were  bright  days,  Miss  Arnold,  but  they 
were  Boon  darkened.' 

Ellen  pressed  her  band,  and  she  went  on  — 
'  I  will  not  linger  over  these  remembrances;  it 
would  occupy  too  much  time.  Mv  father's  ill- 
ness was  sudden,  ami  his  death  SO  nnlooked  for, 
that  my  poor  mother,  who  was  weakened  by 
watching  and  anxiety,  never  entirely  recovered 
from  fche  shock.  Her  health  declined,  though 
she  rallied  as  well  as  Bhe  could,  and  tried  to 
labor  on  for  tin-  sake  ^(  her  child.  She  was 
obliged  to  give  up  her  beloved  home  and  sell 
most  of  the  furniture.  'Too  weak  t<>  engage  in 
household  labor,  she  procured  some  needlework. 
and  came  to  live  in  town  that  she  might  obtain 
a  constant  supply.     An  old  friend  of  my  fethi 

lived  near  thi-  place,  and  kindly  allowed  her  to 
i<nt  a  room  in  his  house  for  a  very  small  sum. 
There  we  lived  happily,  for  though  our  abode 
Was  so  dull  and  joyless  in  itself,  we  were  all  the 
world  to  each  other,  and  at  last  we  eeased  to 
repine  for  the  dear  old  home  we  had  left.  My 
mother  had  been  well  educated,  and  before  her 
marriage  was  mistress  of  a  village  school ;  she 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  69 

took  great  pains  to  instruct  me  in  all  she  knew. 
Often  have  I  sat  upon  a  little  stool  at  her  feet, 
while  she  talked  to  me  so  lovingly,  and  awakened 
such  interest  in  my  young  mind,  that  I  fre- 
quently mastered  my  lessons  before  I  became 
aware  she  had  been  teaching.  Dear  Miss  Ar- 
nold, I  cannot  dwell  upon  her  last  illness,  or  tell 
you  how  she  gradually  faded  away,  so  like  an 
angel  of  heaven,  whil<-  fulfilling  her  mission  on 
earth.  Yon  have  experienced  a  mother's  love, 
and  a  mother's  loss,  ami  need  not  that  I  should 
say  more." 

The  feelings  of  the  two  girls  were  too  deep 
for  tear-,  too  sacred  for  words.  They  sat  mo- 
tionless, encircled  by  a  blessed  influence  arising 
from  these  holy  memories  of  maternal  love.  It 
was  long  ere  the  spell  was  broken,  and  then 
no  more  was  needed  to  enable  Ellen  fully  to 
understand  Margaret's  eventful  life. 

'  There  is  one  thing  more,  dear  Miss  Arnold. 
The  debt  of  which  I  spoke  was  contracted  dur- 
ing my  mother's  illness.  Mr.  Edwards,  my 
present  landlord,  took  the  house  in  which  we 
then  boarded,  my  father's  old  friend  removing 
to  a  distance.  Our  rent  was  regularly  met  for 
some  time  ;  but  when  my  poor  mother's  strength 
entirely  failed,  all  her  little  valuables  were  dis- 
posed of,  one  by  one.     After  she  died,  and,  the 


70  LABOR    AND    LOVE  : 

• 

funeral  expenses  were  paid,  I  had  nothing  left 
for  the  back-rent,  which  had  been  accumulating 
to  a  large  sum.  I  am  now  paying  it  off,  a  little 
at  a  time.  Mr.  Edwards  moved  into  this  house 
about  a  year  ago,  and  his  wife  declares  I  shall 
not  leave  till  I  am  out  of  her  debt.' 

'  May  I  inquire  what  amount  is  now  owing?' 
said  Ellen. 

1  About  three  pounds,'  replied  Margaret.  '  I 
can  only  spare  a  .-hilling  or  so  at  a  time  towards 
it;  plain  Bewing  is  so  poorly  remunerated,  espe- 
cially shop-work,  which  I  am  obliged  to  take, 
in  order  to  insure  regular  employment.' 

'  Have  you  ever  tried  to  obtain  a  situation  of 
any  kind  I  It  would  be  so  much  better  than  living 
alone.' 

'  There  have  been  BO  many  difficulties  in  my 
way-  First,  my  stock  of  clothing  was  insulii- 
cienl  :  and  who  would  recommend  a  poor  friend- 
less girl  like  me?  Then  how  could  I  satisfy 
Mrs.  Edwards  ? ' 

'  Forgive  me,'  said  Ellen,  '  I  ought  to  have 
known  this.  Something,  however,  must  be 
done.  Come  and  see  me  to-morrow.  Papa 
will  then  be  at  home,  and  will,  I  am  sure,  be 
happy  to  aid  you.  We  can  also  talk  about  the 
work  for  Mrs.  Woodward.' 

Taking  an  affectionate  leave,  Ellen  hastened 


A    TALK    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  71 

home  to  impart  to  her  father  her  new  friend's 
touching  history.  She  fell  sure  of  his  advice 
and  assistance,  in  some  project,  for  raising  Mar- 
garet to  a  position  where  her  worth  would  be 
appreciated. 

Next  day  a  note  was  left  at  Mrs.  Edwards', 
for  Miss  Elliott.     It  ran  as  follows:  — 

My  dear  Margaret.  — 

Do  not  fail  to  come  this  evening ;  I  have 
consulted  papa  about  your  affairs,  and  he  has 
smoothed  every  difficulty  for  us.  We  have  long 
felt  the  need  of  a  regular  teacher  in  our  school, 
which  is  now  entirely  dependent  upon  the  vol- 
untary services  of  ladies,  interested  in  its  pro- 
gress. A  thoroughly  trained  mistress  we  do  not 
require;  but  are  desirous  of  securing  the  super- 
intendence of  one  who  can  govern  her  pupils 
by  moral  power,  and  who  is  capable  of  awaken- 
ing within  them  force  o(  thought,  and  a  spirit 
of  inquiry,  that  will  give  interest  to  their  studies, 
and  make  school  the  happy  place  it  ought  to  be. 
I  think  you  are  peculiarly  adapted  to  this  office. 
Would  you  like  to  make  a  trial?  If  you  need 
improvement  in  any  branch  of  knowledge,  papa 
will  gladly  assist  you,  or  if  I  can  supply  aught 
in  which  you  may  be  deficient,  I  shall  esteem 
it  a  privilege.     Let  me  know  your  determina- 


72  LABOR    AM)    UN  r.  : 

tiofl  soon;  [shall  be  at  borne  with  papa  after 
five  o'clock. 

\  our  Binoere  friend, 

Ellen   Arnold. 
Woodland  Cottage,  'I         ly  moroii 

Ere  many  hours  had  passed,  Margarel  v 
welcomed  to  the  pastor's  home.  What  a  deli- 
cious tranquillity  Bbe  experienced,  as,  seated  by 
his  Bide,  she  imparted  her  willingness  to  submit 
entirely  to  hi-  guidance,  and  dedicate  herself  to 
the  graol  work  he  bad  chosen  for  ber.     Freely, 

BS  a  trusting   child,   did    -he   confide    to   him    her 

hopes  and  fears,  her  struggles  and  aspirations. 
His  Boothing  word-  fell  upon  her  spirit  ;i-  dew 
upon  the  drooping  Bower,  reviving  the  bright 
color-  of  youthful  hope,  and  invigorating  its 
fragile  blossoms  beneath  the  rich  warm  sunlight 
of  religion. 

After  a  long  conversation,  Mr.  Arnold  turned 
to  his  daughter,  and  asked  if  she  hud  spoken  to 
Margarel  aboul  her  new  abode. 

•  Xot  yet,  papa  :  but  as  she  seems  so  much  at 
home  already,  1  anticipate  no  objection.  Could 
you   be  happy  to   make  our  home  yours,  Mar* 

n  ■  i  ! " 

The    wondering    tdrl     looked     at     father   as4fl 
daughter  in  turn,   but  was  unable  to  reply. 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  73 

1  My  dear  child,9  Baid  Mr.  Arnold,  taking  her 
hand,  with  Ellen's,  and  joining  them  together, 
'  you  have  been  severely  tried,  and  have  come 
forth  strengthened  and  purified  for  the  mis-ion 
you  arc  destined  to  fulfil.  Here  is  a  sister,  Mar- 
garel  :  I  will  be  a  father  to  \ ou.' 

Tin-  two  girle  sank  on  their  knees,  and  with  a 
hand  on  each  young  head  as  they  bowed  before 
him,  in  a  low,  yel  earnest  voice,  he  blessed  them 
both  a<  his  children. 

•  To-morrow,'  said  Ellen,  as  they  rose.  '  we 
shall  bring  you  home:  I  mean  George  and  I. 
You  will  have  ;i  brother,  too,  Margaret,  and  a 
remarkable  little  fellow  he  is.  How  proud  he 
will  be  of  bis  new  sister.' 

■    Vud  take  this,'  said  the  good  minister,  pr< 

im_r  a  purse  into  the  hand  of  his  adopted  daugh- 
ter. '  Discharge  your  debi  to  Mrs.  Edwards, 
and  with  the  remaining  money  replenish  your 
wardrobe.     Nay,  no  scruples;  in  future  you  will 

he  quite  independent.  I  know  our  small  funds 
will  not  afford  you  an  adequate  -alary,  bur  I 
think  enough  will  be  derived  from  this  source  to 
clothe  you  respectably,  besides  leaving  some- 
thing for  emergencies,  and  helping  the  needy. 
The  assistance  you  will  give  Ellen  in  the  home- 
department,  will  more  than  compensate  for  your 


/4  LABOR    AND    LOVES 

daily  support.     Bo  I  have  not  made  you  a  pen- 
sioner, after  all.' 

•My  friend  2  my  more  than  father !'  cried 
Margaret,  passionately,  'you  have  claims  upon 
my  gratitude  do  ad  of  mine  can  ever  sufficiently 
acknowledge.  I  may  only  live  to  thank  and 
bless  you  in  my  labors  among  those  to  whom 
your  life  is  devoted.1 

\  carriage  was  senl  for  to  convey  her  to  .Mrs. 
Edwards'  lor  the  lasl  time.  She  departed  with 
adieus  and  blessings,  to  which  Bhe  had  long 
been  %stranger.  Once  more  in  her  little  room, 
she  packed  up  the  Braall  Btook  of  apparel  she 
possessed,  then,  with  thanksgivings  in  her  heart, 
sank  into  a  tranquil  slumber,  Buch  as  Bhe  had 
er  known    Bince  in    «  a rl \   childhood  she  re- 

■ 

ed  in  her  mother's  arm-. 
4  Why,  papa.  I  forgol  all  ahont  Mrs.  Wood- 
ward's work.'  said  ESllen,  after  Margaret  had  left 
them.  '  Well.  Borne  one  else  must  have  it  now, 
for  my  dear  little  si>ter  will  have  enough  to  do 
in  preparing  for  her  duti<  hool.' 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  75 


CHAPTER    IX. 

'  Oh,  how  hard  it  appears  i"  lei  others  alone, 
And  those  with  most  sin  often  cast  the  lir-t  stone  ; 
What  in  i  —  1 1 1-^  we  scatter  where?er  we  | 
Tbbughour  own  walls  arc  formed  of  most  delicate  ^l:iv-;.' 

E.  1  -  \  -t  "ook. 

A  small  party  was  assembled  in  Mr.  Wood- 
ward's drawing-room.  Among  those  present, 
were  Miss  Morelan/f,  the  only  sister  of  Mrs. 
Woodward,  Mr.  and    Mrs.  Sharpe,  an   elderly 

couple,  who  prided  themselves  in  an  extreme 
propriety  of  behavior;  indeed,  if  we  may  infer 
from  their  severe  judgment  against  offenders, 
when  the  vices  and  sufferings  of  the  erring 
became  a  theme  of  discourse,  they  musl  have 
been  very  proper  people  indeed;  their  daughter 
Julia,  and  an  orphan  niece,  who  had  been  some 
years  dependent  upon  their  bounty,  and  the 
caprice  of  her  cousin,  by  whom  she  was  treated 
as  companion,  or  waiting-maid,  according  to  the 
whim  of  the  moment.  This  evening  Julia  was 
unusually  condescending  to  the  despised  Harriet, 


7G  i.auou  and  love: 

for  her  own  vanity  had  been  gratified  by  the  po- 
liteness of  a  new  acquaintance,  who  was  exert- 
ing himself  to  make  the  evening  pass  agreeably. 
Alfred  Pemberton  had  lately  returned  from  a  tour 
on  the  continent,  hia  mind  enlarged  and  strength- 
ened, by  free  intercourse  with  the  good  and 
greal  of  other  lands,  and  with  a  heart  expanding 
under  the  influences  of  an  enlightened  benevo- 
lence, awakened  by  the  e< 'lltemplat ion  of  liis 
Creator's  work-.  Hi-  manners  were  exquisitely 
refmed  :  but  there  was  a  dignified  manliness  in 
his  deportment,  thai  awed  the  superficially  po- 
lite, and  revealed  Bupreme  contemp!  for  all  affec- 
tation and  formality.  Ho  was  distantly  related 
io  the  Woodward  family,  and  an  especial  favor- 
ite of  Miss  Moreland,  notwithstanding  what  she 
called  •  his  Btrange  notions.9  It  is  probable  these 
relatives  of  Alfred's  would  not  have  tolerated 
his  behavior  at  times,  for  he  hud  a  habit  of  plain 
speaking,  noi  generally  agreeable ;  bnl  then,  he 
was  rich,  ami  occupied  an  influential  position 
in  society.  He  hud  moreover  Bmch  a  noble  bear- 
ing, and  was  so  eminently  handsome,  that, 
Miss  Moreland  observed,  '  he  must  become  dis- 
tinguished, and  would  add  greatly  to  the  honor 
and  dignity  of  the  family.' 

He  had  been  describing  some  of  the  niblime 
scenery    of  the    Alps,   and   dwelt   with  a  poet's 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  77 

tongue  upon  those  glories  so  faithfully  pictured 
in  the  sand  nary  of  memory.  The  enthusiasm 
kindled  in  nia  soul  when  first  beholding  the 
grandeur  of  those  scenes,  still  glowed  on,  and  in- 
spired  him  with  uncommon  eloquence.  Glancing 
round  at  the  faces  of  his  hearers,  he  was  (lulled 
by  their  dull,  unanswerirrg  gaze  :  and  suddenly 
changed  the  subject,  by  turning  to  Julia  with 
some  commonplace  remark.  He  had  not  seen 
the  countenance  of  her  cousin  Harriet.  If  he 
had.  surely  its  animated,  intelligent  expression 
would  have  encouraged  him  to  proceed^  The 
conversation  soon  became  general;  interesting 
to  some  present, on  account  of  the  paltry  gossip, 
and  personalities,  of  which  it  w;i<  chiefly  coin- 
posed.  During  the  evening  Mr.  Arnold  was 
spoken  o(.  and  severely  censured  by  Mr.  Sharpe, 
for  associating  upon  such  an  equality  with  low, 
vulgar  people. 

•  Really,  Mr.  Arnold  seems  to  have  no  proper 
idea  of  the  dignity  of  his  office,'  remarked  WEra 
Woodward.  '  lie  might  be  kind,  and  charita- 
ble, and  all  that,  without  stooping  so  low  as  he 
does.' 

'To  be  sure.'  rejoined  Mrs.  Sharpe.  'Why 
last  week  he  actually  put  on  his  best  hat,  and 
a   new   pair  of  gloves,   to  visit  those  Herberts, 


78  LABOB    AND    LOYB  ! 


4 


rose    it    happened    t<>   be   some    holiday   of 

theirs.' 

•  I  think  ii  was  on  account  of  Edward's  birth- 
d:i\ ,'  said  II  urriet,  gently. 

•  What,  that   apstarl  youth,  who  never  j» 
the  leasl  respect  to  hi-  superiors  ! ' 

•That   youth  i<  no  upstart.    :iunt.'    retained 
Harriet,  warmly,  *  and   perhaps,   vlini  In-  mi 
his  superiors, gives  them  due  respect.    Hi-  name 
i-  William.    Edward  In-  been  dead  Bome  yean? 

•  \nd  they  -till  keep  his  birthday,'  exclaimed 
Miss£foreland.  'IalwayB  thought  the  family 
had  romantic  notions.  And  Mr.  Arnold  to  coun- 
tenance   -u<h    a     foolish    ait!       Ellen,    too.    was 

there,  1  presume.' 

•  Of  course   -In-  v  1    Mr.    W IwarcL 

1  Do  you  suppose  he  would  go  without  her? 
Why  In-  makes  that  girl  his  companion  and 
adviser  in  almosl  everything  he  does.  It  would 
not  surprise  me  to  hear  of  his  reading  his 
mons  to  her  before  he  gave  others  the  benefit 
of  them.' 

•  \n  I  would  you  believe  it.'  added  Julia.  '  -ho 
has  persuaded  him  to   take  into  their  home 

I  -  Lrirl.  from  one  of  the  lowesl  district^  in  the 
town,  ^f  whose  character  and  connections  no  one 
knows  anything?  lie  has  even  adopted  her  as 
bis  daughter,  and  Ellen  tx  if  having  a  si 


A    TALK    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  79 

to  love.     I  think   Bhe   might    have  Belected  one 

from  her  own  rank  in  life.' 

1  Perhaps  Bhe  is  not  very  inferior  to  .Mi--  Ar- 
nold,1 suggested  Harriet.  '  I  heard  Mr.  Arnold 
,  thai  Margarel  Elliot!  would  grace  any 
Btation,  and  thai  he  was  proud  of  such  a  com- 
panion for  Ellen.' 

k  How  like  him,'  said  Julia,  pettishly;  '  I  Bup- 
he  will  expecl  n<  to  associate  with  this 
paragon  <>l'  perfecl ion.' 

•  hi  the  Bchool  \ou  musl  at  leasl  acknowledge 
her  superiority,  Miss  Julia,  for  I  understand  she 
is   promoted    io   the   office   of   Teacher.'       Mr. 

Woodward  gave  this  piece  of  information    with 

assumed  importance. 

(Goodness!'  exclaimed  Miss  Moreland ;  sa 
fine  teacher  -he  will  make  !  I  am  glad  1  sent  in 
my  resignation.' 

'Mr.  Arnold  musl  be  crazy,'  said  Mr-.  Sharpe. 
'Julia,  my  lose.  1  hope  yon  will  not  think  of 
attending  that  school  again.' 

1  Certainly  not,  mamma !  How  could  I  sub- 
mit to  he  governed  by  a  low-bred,  obscure 
person,  of  whom  I  know  nothing  ?' 

'  I  feel  half  inclined  to  withdraw  my  subscrip- 
tion, but  that  would  appear  mean,  after  prom- 
ising my  support  to  the  institution,'  observed 
Mr.  Sharpe. 


BO  LABOR    AND    LOVK  ! 

•  And  what  good  would  it  do,  papa?  You 
would  only  get  an  ill  name  :  you  know  they 
will  carry  on  the  Behool,  in  Bpite  of  every  diffi- 
culty, for  Mr.  Arnold  bears  the  Largesl  .-hare  of 
expenses  himsekV 

•(ink  Mr.  Woodward  and  I  subscribe,  except 
the  poor  people  of  the  congregation,  It  h 
true,  their  separate  contributions  are  small,  but, 
added  together,  they  amount  i<>  no  inconsi  lera- 
ble  Bum.' 

4  There  lies  all  the  mischief,'  cried  Mi~<  More- 
land.  '  Mr.  Arnold  is  doing  what  be  can  to  raise 
the  working  people  above  dependence  on  the 
charity  of  others.  He  i-  continually  talking  to 
them  about  their  rights,  and  telling  them  how 
they  may  become  self-reliant,  and  respected,  and 
that  their  manners  should  be  as  refined  as  th 
of  the  highesl  in  the  land." 

'But  how  V  inquired  Mr.  Sbarpe. 

1  lie  believes  education  will  do  much  towards 
effecting  such  a  change,  but  he  has  some  origi- 
nal ideas  about  the  influence  of  beauty  on  the 
mind;  indeed,  I  believe  it  one  of  the  articles  of 
his  creed,  thai  beautiful  objects  help  to  purify 
the  soul.' 

•  I  know  it."  said  Harriet:  she  once  told  me  he 
thought  these  outward  influences  were  needed 
to  preserve  the  harmony  of  our  spiritual  nature, 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  81 

and  that  he  believed  (!od  sometimes  purified 
our  hearts  from  sin.  through  the  medium  of  the 
Beautiful.'  * 

'Does  he  teach  this  doctrine  from  the  pulpit?' 
asked  Mrs.  Woodward. 

'  Yes,  ma'am,'  pursued  the  true-hearted  girl ; 
'  he  preached  a  mosi  impressive  sermon  <>n  this 
very  subject,  last  Sunday.  The  room  was 
adorned  with  flowers,  and  they  seemed  to  bear 
messages  of  God's  love  to  as  all.  After  service 
the  flowers  were  distributed  among  those  poor 
one-,  who,  living  in  the  courts  of  a  large  town, 
seldom  possess  any.  I  rejoiced  and  wept,  to 
see  some  of  them  kiss  those  treasures,  which 
appeared  more  holy  tor  the  prayers  that  had 
been  breathed  among  them.' 

4  These  nre  strange  proceedings,'  said  .Miss 
Moreland. 

'Remarkable,  indeed!'  added  Mr. Woodward. 

'  They  savor  of  Popery!'  angrily  rejoined  Mr. 
Sharpe. 

■  Highly  improper!'  remarked  his  wife.  '  My 
dear,  I  think  you  should  remonstrate  with  .Mr. 
Arnold,  upon   the   impropriety  of  such  conduct.' 

'It  will  certainly  lead  either  to  idolatry  or 
infidelity."  murmured  Mrs.  Woodward. 

'I  believe  it  is  all  Ellen's  doing,'  said  Julia ; 
'  she  has  the  most  silly  notions,  quite  unfit  for 
6 


82 


i..\i;oii  .WD   i.ovi: : 


a  clergyman's  daughter;  and  she  can  persuade 

her  papa  to  aught  she  chooses.' 

'  I  wish  there  were  more  like  Ellen  Arnold  in 
the  world,  cousin  Julia.5 

1  Harriet,  you  arc  too  forward  in  your  re- 
marks,' said  Mrs.  Sharpe.  '  It  is  very  improper 
for  a  young  girl  in  your  position  to  express 
your  opinions  so   freely.' 

'  T  cannot  hear  Kllen  Arnold,  or  her  father, 
slandered  without  resenting  it,  aunt  ;  you  may 
one  day  find  out  your  mistake.' 

4  Mrs.  Sharpe  was  about  to  make  an  angry 
reply,  but  meeting  Alfred  Pemberton's  deep, 
penetrating  gaze,  she  checked  herself,  and  turn- 
ing to  Miss  Moreland.  listened  1o  a  sad  account 
of  that  lady's  sufferings,  through  the  ingratitude 
of  '  those  Bartons  and  their  children." 

During  the  preceding  conversation  Alfred 
had  preserved  a  strict  silence,  except  now  and 
then  surprising  the  company  by  such  lacon- 
ics as;  Pshaw! —  Affectation! —  Hypocrisy!  — 
Jealousy!  —  Formalism!  —  Cant  !  No  one  but 
Harriet  received  them  as  they  were  meant  ;  the 
resl  applied  them  to  Mr.  Arnold  and  his  daugh- 
ter, in  a  manner  highly  gratifying  to  their  own 
self-love. 

Actuated  by  sympathy  with  the  amiable 
Harriet,  as  well  as  to  relieve  himself  from  the 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE. 


83 


intolerable  gossip  around  him,  Alfred  invited  her 
to  look  ovct  some  engravings  he  had  brought 
from  abroad.  He  was  delighted  with  the  pure 
taste  evinced  in  the  remarks  she  made,  while 
pointing  out  what  she  considered  most  beauti- 
ful. .Many  of  the  scenes  he  had  visited,  and  he 
riveted  her  interest  by  his  glowing  descriptions. 
He  felt  a  brother's  solicitude  lor  the  welfare  of 
the  orphan  girl,  and  ventured  to  ask  if  she  felt 
happy  in  her  present  home. 

Harriet  hesitated,  and  could  not  immediately 
reply. 

'  Forgive  me,  Miss  Russell,'  he  said.  '  I  know 
it  is  an  abrupt  question,  upon  so  slight  an 
acquaintance,  but  knowing  the  affection  that 
subsisted  between  you  and  my  beloved  sister, 
during  her  life,  1  ventured  to  hope  I  might,  in 
some  degree  supply  her  place.  When  you  have 
•proved  me  worthy,  perhaps  you  may  honor  me 
with  your  confidence." 

Harriet  looked  up  into  his  face,  and  met  such 
an  expression  of  pure  benevolence,  mingled  with 
manly  respect,  that  she  would  have  been 
ashamed  to  doubt  him.  She  frankly  gave  him 
her  hand,  saying,  '  Dear  Abby  often  spoke  of 
you  when  we  were  together.  I  believe  she 
would  rejoice  if  I  trusted  and  loved  you  as  she 
did.' 


84 


LABOR    AND    LOVE 


'  Such  trust  and  love  would  be  held  most 
sacred,  and  guarded  as  one  of  the  richest  gifts 
of  Heaven.'  said  Alfred,  as  he  took  the  proffered 
hand.  '  I  hope  we  shall  soon  become,  better 
aii | u aii iled.      May  I  call  upon  you  frequently?' 

'  Whenever  yon  please.  I  shall  always  be 
happy  to  see  you;  so  will  Julia.  She  is  rather 
odd  sometimes,  but  you  won't  mind  that, for  she 
is  not  unkind  at  heart,  only  aunt  does  so  spoil 
her.     Shall  we  go  to  my  cousin,  now?' 

He  led  her  to  Julia,  and  endeavored  to  engage 
that  young  lady  in  discourse  ;  but  she  was  so 
jealous  of  his  attention  to  1  farriei,  whose  >pirited 
defence  of  the  Arnold*  had  greatly  displeased 
her,  that  she  sal  in  gloomy  silence  the  remainder 
of  the  evening. 


A    TALK    OF    ENGLISH    L1FK.  85 


CHAPTER  X. 

'  Forgive  us  our  trespasses,  as   we  forgive   them  that  trespass 
against  us.' 

Margaret  Elliott  was  soon  settled  in  her 
new  home,  and  began  her  work  in  a  right 
earnest  spirit.  The  lowly  building,  which  served 
both  for  a  chapel  and  school-room,  was  situated 
in  a  populous  district,  about  two  miles  from  Mr. 
Arnold's  house'.  Margaret  was  an  early  riser, 
and  made  a  point  of  doing  her  share  of  house- 
hold labor  before  breakfast.  Her  employments 
were  so  well  regulated,  that  Ellen  was  often 
puzzled  to  know  how  so  much  was  accom- 
plished, and  Margaret  always  ready  for  school 
at  the  appointed  hour. 

Mr.  Arnold  had,  at  first,  high  hopes  of  Marga- 
ret's success,  founded  on  the  excellent  training 
she  had  received  from  her  mother.  The  details 
of  management,  essential  in  a  school  of  neglect- 
ed, ignorant  children,  he  knew  she  would  easily 
acquire,   and   her   deep,   earnest  faith    and  love 


86  LABOR    AND    I-OVE! 

gave  him  full  confidence  in  her  ability  to  accom- 
plish the  holy  mission  she  had  undertaken. 

A  more  intimate  acquaintance  convinced  him 
that  he  had  truly  estimated  her  worth,  and  that 
his  fondest  hopes  would  be  realized.  Vet,  an 
affectionate  solicitude  for  the  future  welfare  of 
the  being  who  shared  his  paternal  care,  was 
mingled  with  the  satisfaction  he  experienced) 
when,  day  by  day,  he  saw  some  rare  virtue 
unfolding.  For,  as  her  mind  expanded,  bright 
rays  of  intellect  and  enthusiastic  feeling  allured 
her  from  the  regular  course  of  study  he  had 
marked  out,  into  a  world  of  her  own  creation. 
Mr.  Arnold  began  to  reflect,  whether  the  once 
despised  orphan  might  not  possess  the  inspira- 
tion of  genius,  that  divine  power,  by  which  one 
mind  exercises  such  a  vast  influence  over  multi- 
tudes less  gifted,  either  to  bless  or  to  corrupt, 
according  to  its  improvement  or  abuse.  He 
determined  to  remain  silent  in  his  observations, 
till  time  should  prove  whether  his  surmises  were 
correct,  and  to  direct  the  energies  of  Margaret 
to  those  occupations  which,  from  a  careful  study 
of  her  mental  nature,  would  appear  conducive 
to  a  useful,  happy  life,  and  most  in  accordance 
with  the  benignant  purposes  of  Hiin  by  whom 
every  good  gift  is  bestowed. 

Harriet  Russell  was  delighted  with  the  new 


A    TALK    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  87 

school-mistress,  and  would  gladly  have  spent 
some  hours- every  day  in  helping  her.  Ellen 
gave  all  the  time  she  could  spare,  and  frequently 
they  spent  whole  mornings  together,  in  this 
delightful  occupation. 

It  was  a  pleasant  sight,  in  truth,  these  young 
maidens,  so  pure  in  heart,  so  full  of  1  rusting 
love,  so  enthusiastic  in  duty,  bending  down 
amid  a  group  of  little  smiling  faces,  beaming 
with  intelligence,  and  eagerly  expecting  some 
animating  question,  or  word  of  encouragement 
Angry  speeches,  or  sullen  looks,  were  seldom 
known.  Breathing  an  atmosphere  of  love,  these 
young  flowers  of  humanity  expanded  within  its 
genial  influence,  till  it  became  the  very  life- 
spring  of  all  their  motives  and  actions. 

Miss  Mot-eland's  resignation  left  Margaret 
free  to  act  out  the  dictates  of  her  own  noble 
•nature.  She  was  the  companion  of  her  pupils 
in  their  sports  ;  their  friend  iwthe  hours  of  sick- 
ness and  sorrow.  She  regularly  visited  their 
homes,  and  gained  access  to  the  hearts  of  their 
parents,  by  her  cheerful  conversation  and  active 
exertions  for  their  benefit.  Did  she  enter  a 
house  where  the  mother  looked  worn  with  grief. 
or  anxiety,  she  would  gently  win  her  confidence, 
and  try  to  remove  the  cause  of  trouble.  If  a 
room  showed  signs  of  neglect,  or  ignorance  of 


88 


LABOR    AND    LOVE : 


household  economy,  no  rude  remark  escaped 
her  lips,  but  she  would  so  kindly  suggest 
methods  for  making  things  more  comfortable, 
thai  a  change  for  the  better  was  almost  sure  to 
follow.  Margaret  had  faith  in  human  hearts, 
and  to  them  her  appeals  were  made.  A  hus- 
band's look  of  delight,  his  grateful  affection,  the 
smile  of  happy  childhood,  the  power  and  worth 
of  woman's  devotion,  these  were  some  of  the 
motives  she  held  forth,  with  an  eloquence  none 
could  resist.  Then  such  surprising  improve- 
ments were  wrought  by  some  of  her  pupils,  that 
their  mothers  were  full  of  admiration,  when 
they  found  what  useful  little  handmaidens  their 
daughters  became. 

Both  Ellen  and  Margaret  feU  particularly 
interested  in  Mrs.  Barton  and  her  family.  The 
mother  hail  such  a  frank,  cheerful  disposition, 
and  was  so  affectionate  in  her  domestic  rela- 
tions, that  our  young  friends  made  her  frequent 
visits.  They  had  the  satisfaction  of  observing 
a  gradual  improvement  in  the  household.  One 
article  of  furniture  after  another  assumed  a 
cleaner  appearance.  Some  choice  plants  adorned 
the  window,  where  once  nothing  was  seen  but 
a  ragged  curtain.  The  children  now  had  cheer- 
ful faces,  and  were  happy  as  loving  hearts  and 
industry  could  make  them.     Mrs.  Barton  herself 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  89 

was  losing  much  of  that  harshness  of  manner, 
which  had  so  shocked  Miss  Moreland.      Home 

0 

affections,  and  home  duties,  were  invested  with 
a  new  charm,  by  woman's  sympathy  and 
woman's   active   benevolence 

One  holiday  afternoon,  Margaret  went  alone, 
to  make  some  calls  upon  her  scholars.  She  was 
leaving  the  cottage  of  the  Bartons,  where  she 
had  taken  a  beautiful  fuchia  Ellen  had  reared 
for  them ;  and  finding  she  had  considerable 
time  to  spare,  determined  to  visit  her  old  friend 
Mrs.  Norton,  whom  she  had  not  seen  since 
opening  school,  except  occasionally  at  meeting 
on  Sunday,  when  there  was  no  opportunity  for 
conversation,  It  was  a  bright  autumn  day,  and 
Margaret's  heart  was  light  and  gladsome,  as  she 
greeted  the  blessed  sunshine  which  smiled  a 
welcome  wherever  she  went. 

.  Mrs.  Norton's  delight  at  seeing  her  was 
unbounded  ;  she  received  Margaret  with  mater- 
nal affection,  and  was  so  intent  upon  the  change 
in  that  once  pale  and  anxious  countenance,  that 
even  her  womanly  curiosity  gave  way  to  admi- 
ration, and  it  was  some  minutes  before  she 
asked  a  single  question  ;  then  she  must  needs 
take  off  the  little  bonnet,  and  make  Margaret 
sit  close  beside  her,  before  she  could  listen  to  a 
reply. 


90 


L  UtOR    AND    LOVK  '. 


■  And  in )\v,  my  dear  child.  I  want  to  know 
how  you  arc  getting  on;  yon  don'1  look  aa  if 
you  made  any  trouble  of  thai  Bchool,  notwith- 
standing what  Miss  Morrland  said.  She  told 
me  the  children  were  bo  antractable,  she  could 
do  nothing  with  them,  and  thai  it  was  ridiculous 
engage  a  mere  baby,        -he  called  you,  foi 

arduous  an  o!ii< 

'Mis      Moreland    does    nol    know   me,    M 
Norton;  it    is  hrue    I   am  very  young,  bul   my 
whole  soul  is  in  the  work,  and  I  love  those  poor 
littl'  i  dearly,  thai    1  am   happiesl  \\  hen 

among  them.  I  own  there  was,  al  first,  some  dif- 
Itj  in  obtaining  order.  :ui<l  I  was  obliged  to  be 
ver)  strict,  bul  knowing  how  much  childn  n  are 
governed  through  their  affections,  I  tried  to  win 
their  confidence,  and  make  them  love  me  in 
return.' 

4  And  how  did  you  do  ihi~,  my  love  ! ' 

1  B)  striving  to  Uve  so  near  to  Christ  thai  in- 
spirit mighl  be   infused  into  every  action  of  my 
life,    especially    in    nn    intercourse    with    tl 
children.     If  the  perverseness  or  unkindnet 
any  tempted   me  to  anger,  1   remembered   how 
He    pitied   and    foi  and    my   reproof  was 

tempered  with  kindness.  If  a  proud,  defiant 
spirir  rose  up  in  rebellion  against  me,  I  thought 
of   His    all-conquering  love,   and  through  love 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  91 

was  enabled  to  conquer  too.  Did  indolence 
threaten  to  enslave  either  teacher  or  pupils,  and 
lead  them  away  from  duty,  the  untiring  labors 

of  Him  "  who  went  about  doing  :_r<>"d,,,  inspired 

die  with  fresh  vigor,  and  enabled  me  to  re- 
animate the  little  minds  around  me.  When 
difficulties  opposed  <>ur  progress,  it  was  His 
lofty   disinterestedness   that     strengthened    my 

energies,   and    gave    fresh    life   to    the  weak    and 

timid  heart.  This,  dear  .Mrs.  Norton,  is  the 
mighty  power  to  which  we  owe  our  progress, — 
the  <letail<  of  its  working  you  must  come  and 
see  f<>r  yourself.' 

'Thank  yon.  Margaret,  I  should  rejoice  to  see 
yon  in  the  midst  of  your  little  (lock  :  no  wonder 
you  have  done  so  much,  working  in  such  a  spirit. 
I  am  emboldened  now.  to  ask  a  further  trial  of 
your  love.' 

'  Whai  i<  it  ! '  said  Margaret 

'  Why.  my  dear,  I  wish  to  enlist  your  sym- 
pathy for  the  Edwards'.  1  suppose  yon  have 
heard  of  the  poor  man'-  death.' 

1  No,  indeed,'  said  Margaret,  quickly.  '  How 
did  it  happen  .'     They  must   he   in   sad  distress.' 

'I  think  it  i-  now  three  weeks,  since  little 
Nanny  Edwards  came  into  my  shop,  and  asked 
me  for  a  morsel  of  bread.  I  knew  the  child  by 
those   heavenly  blue  eyes  of  hers,  or  I  should 


02  LAnOR    AND    LOVE  \ 

not  have  recognised  her,  she  looked  bo  worn 
with  grief  and  hunger.  1  gave  Ix-r  some  food, 
and  inquired  whal  waa  the  matter.  She  told 
in--  her  father  waa  bo  dangerously  ill.  the  doctor 
had  given  him  up,  and  that  they  had  nothing  i«> 
eat,  except  odd  bits  the  neighbors  gave  them.  I 
packed  op  a  few  eh  tries  tor  Nanny  to  take 
home,  intending  to  go  and  Bee  her  mother,  but 
mv  Bhopwoman  had  left  me,  and  I  could  not 
get  another  just  then,  bo  it  was  nearly  a  week 
before    I   hail  an   opportunity  of  visiting  them, 

though    I    Milt    to    them    often.       Winn     1  culled, 

Edwards  had  been  dead  two  days.' 

'How  I  wish  1  had  known  of  this,'  exclaimed 
Margaret  '  Had  yon  no  mean-  of  Bending  me 
word  !     Et  might  — '     Her  heart  was  so  full  she 

could  Bay  no  more. 

'Why,  really,  it  did  not  occur  to  me  till  after 
the  funeral  ;  then  1  thought  you  were  the  Last 
person  in  the  word  to  apply  to.  they  had  used 
yon  BO  cruelly.  1  ought  1«>  have  known  yon 
better,  but  you  will  forgive  me,  won't  you?' 

4  Dear  .Mrs.  Norton,  do  not  talk  bo;  you  will 
go  with  nil*  to  Mrs.  Edwards',  will  you  not  .' 
Conic,  shall  we  go  immediately?' 

Mr-.  Norton  did  not  answer,  but  hastened  tip 
stairs,  and,  in  a  few  minutes,  was  ready  to 
accompany  her   young  friend.     Half  an  hour's 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  93 

walk  brought  them  to  Mrs.  Edwards'.  Nanny 
saw  them  coming,  and  flew  to  open  the  door. 
They  entered,  and  found  the  mother  sitting, 
with  her  head  bowed  npon  the  tabic  She 
neither  spoke  nor  moved.  Two  little  boys  were 
playing  in  a  corner,  with  some  broken  toys,  their 
features  pinched  by  hunger,  and  their  tattered 
garment-  hanging  carelessly  about  them. 

'Mother,  mother,  look  up,'  said  Nanny,  '  here 
IS  kind  Mrs.  .Norton  and  Miss  Elliott  Please 
speak    to     mother,    ma'am:     she's    been    crying 

almost  all  the  lime  niiee  father  died.' 

Margaret  approached  the  grief-stricken  wo- 
man, and  bending  over  her,  softly  whispered, 
'Come,  my  dear  Mrs.  Edwards,  try  to  rouse 
yourself.  Friends  arc-  here,  waiting  to  serve 
you.  Shall  we  try  and  do  something  for  these 
little  ones  ? ' 

Tin*  woman  raised  her  head  one  moment,  and 
looked  upon  the  well-remembered  features,  full 
of  compassion  and  tenderness,  then,  with  a 
piteous  groan,  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and 
sobbed  convulsively. 

Margaret  made  signs  to  her  friend  to  re- 
move the  children.  Nanny  was  dispatched  to  a 
grocer's  shop,  to  purchase  provisions,  and  Mrs. 
Norton    took   me    boys   out    with    her,  for   the 


94  LABOR    AND    LOVE f 

purpose  of  ordering  some  coal  and  other  neces- 
sary comforts. 

The  distressed  mother,  and  her  former  tenant, 
were  now  alone  together.  It  was  a  solemn 
moment.  All  Mrs.  Edwards'  cruel  treatment  of 
the  poor  girl,  was  fearfully  visited  upon  her  own 
conscience,  and  Bhe  could  only  look  upon  her 
presenl  bereavement,  and  Kilter  woes,  as  judg- 
ments for  the  Bevere  pangs  she  had  inflicted 
upon  Margaret,  in  her  time  of  loneliness  and 
sorrow-.  Awhile  she  remained  fearfully  agitated. 
Margaret  still  bending  over  her  like  some 
pitying  angel,  waited  till  this  burs!  of  grief 
began  to  subside,  then  kneeling  down  beside 
the  unhappy  Bufferer,  drew  that  bowed  head 
upon  her  compassionate  bosom.  She  tried  to 
utter  words  {)(  consolation,  but  the  feelings 
struggling  for  expression,  could  only  be  inter- 
preted in  the  language  of  prayer,  and  thus  she 
spoke  : 

'  Heavenly  Father,  thou  hast  sent  thy  loving 
angel,  Death,  to  remove  one  of  thy  children 
nearer  to  thee,  it  may  be,  because  he  needed  h 
higher  discipline,  and  more  immediate  commu- 
nion with  thy  spirit,  than  this  world  could  give, 
to  purify  him  for  thy  service.  As  thou  hast 
thought  tit  to  take  him  from  this  scene  of  trial, 
do  thou,  in  thy  loving-kindness,    speak  to  the 


A    TAtE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  95 

hearts  of  his  sorrowing  family.  Teach  the  part- 
ner of  his  earthly  home  to  live  in  purity  and  truth ; 
so  may  she  be  prepared  to  share  with  him  a  holier 
dwelling-place  hereafter.  B\c»  the  dear  children 
of  their  love.  Open  their  hearts  for  the  reception 
of  Christ's  holy  spirit,  thai  they  may  Beek  thee 
early,  and  know  thee  as  the  guide  of  their  youth. 
Strengthen  the  mother's  soul  to  exertion  for  her 
little  ones,  and  help  her  to  lead  them  nearer  and 
nearer  to  a  knowledge  of  thy  goodness  and 
love.  Be  thou  her  friend  and  comforter,  and 
manifest  unto  her  the  lighl  and  beauty  of  this 
lower  world,  through  the  domestic  affections, 
and  a  happy  Christian  life." 

During  this  brief  communion,  a  change  came 
over  the  spirit  of  the  mourner.  Her  convulsive 
sobs  entirely  ceased.  She  no  longer  hid  her 
face  from  the  gentle  minister  "of  God,  who 
sought  her  out  in  her  deep  sorrow,  to  lead  her 
within  the  light  of  His  smile.  Still,  as  an  infant 
hushed  at  eventide,  by  the  music  of  its  mother's 
voice,  did  she  rest  in  Margaret's  encircling  arms, 
almost  fearing  to  breathe,  lest  she  should  lose 
one  of  those  spirit  tones,  whose  rich  harmony 
awakened  kindred  chords  in  her  own  deep 
nature.  After  a  few  moments'  silence,  she  mur- 
mured, — 

'Bless  you,  bless  you,  for  this!     I  have  not 


0»*i  LA.BOB     \M)     LOTS  ! 

deserved  such  goodness,  Miss  Elliott!     1  cannot 
fell  vnii  what  1  feel  here,  in  my  heart     I  have 
n  mosl  cruel  and  sinful,  oh  how  sinful !    ( 'an 
you  indeed  forgive  me  ' ' 

•  Prom  my  inmost  soul  I  <1".  els  I  hope  for 
pardon  myself.  There,  let  it  pass.'  Margaret 
continued  to  soothe  her  with  words  of  love  and 
hope,  till  LVannj  appeared  with  a  basket  of 
provisions,  and  soon  after  a  large  sack  of  coal 
was  drought  in:  Mrs.  Norton  having  sent  it, 
together  with  a  quantity  of  tire-wood. 

Mrs.  Edwards  was  so  bewildered,  that  she 
could  neither  question  ber  daughter,  nor  thank 
Margaret,  who.  with  Nanny's  help,  sel  about 
making  a  fire  and  sweeping  up  tin-  kitchen. 
B  ne thing  like  order  being  restored,  she  per- 
Buaded  Mrs,  Edwards  to  go  up  >tairs.  and  make 
some  change  in  her  dress.     By    the  tine'  Mrs. 

Norton    returned   with   the    boys.   :i   comfortable 
meal  was  placed  on  the  table. 

•  Now,  children,  try  and  do  till  you  can  for 
mother.  Nanny,  you  will  wish  her  good-bye 
for  me.  and  tell  her  -he  must  enjoy  this  nice 
toast,  because  I  made  it.  1  will  come  again 
soon,  ami  hope  to  hear  of  your  being  good  and 
kind  one  to  another.' 

'  Ciood  bye,  little  ones,'  said  Mrs.  Norton. 
'  Keep  the  kettle  boiling,  and  Nanny  be  sure  to 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  97 

wash  up  bhe  dishes.  How  nice  and  cheerful 
they  all  Look,'  continued  she  to  Margaret,  as 
they  left  the  house. 

'  They  do,  indeed,'  replied  Margaret  'I  am 
so  glad  we  came.  Mrs.  Edwards'  besl  feelings 
are  awakened,  and  T  hope  ere  long  she  will  be 
changed  and  happy.  Those  dear  children,  too, 
I  must  try  i»»  have  (hem  in  our  school  Nanny 
is  a  brighl  little  creature,  don'1  you  think  so?' 

'She  is  one  of  the  loveliest  children  T  ever 
Baw,  and    I    believe  will   reward   yon   for   any 

re  you  bestow  npon  her.  Jim  what  is  Mrs. 
Edwards  to  do  for  a  living  1  I  can  Lri\e  her 
some  ne.  dlework,  it'  Bhe  sews  neatly.' 

'  I  know  she  does,'  answered  Margaret,  -and 
I  can  also  obtain  some  for  her.  This  will  help 
h<  r  on  awhile,  with  a  present  now  and  then. 
If  she  prove  deserving,  L  will  ask  our  people  to 
hi  her  have  the  care  of  the  chapel,  and  will  sel 
on  foot  a  subscription  to  buy  a  mangle1  for  her. 
She  might  also  take  a  hoarder  or  two.  She 
mus1  not  be  lost  for  want  of  help.  What  a 
good  thing  it  would  be  to  remove  her  out  of 
that  neighborhood.' 

Many  were  the  plans  suggested  by  our  two 

'  Mangle  —  A  machine  for  smoothing  linen,  much  used  in 
England  j  by  the  use  of  which  many  earn  a  subsistence. 
7 


Os 


LABOR    AND    LOVF. 


friends,  on  their  way  home,  Tor  the  benefit  of 
Mrs.  Edwards  and  her  family.  .Mr.  Arnold  and 
Ellen  were  Boon  made  acquainted  with  all  thai 
had  happened,  and  warmly  entered  into  Mar- 
garet's bene* olenl  projects. 

A  few  months  after,  there  was  placed  in  the 
window  of  a  -mall,  neal  house,  near  the  school, 
a  handsome  card,  on  which  was  primed,  '  Man- 
gling done  here.'  \  clean,  cheerful  looking 
woman  wa-  generall)  busj  smoothing  various 
articles  of  linen,  or  perhaps  sewing  diligently, 
while  two  chubbj  boys  were  playing  near. 
This  was,  Tor  the  mosl  part,  after  Bchool  hours. 
A  charming  blue-eyed  girl  would  Bing  to  them, 
or  help  them  to  prepare  their  h  -  and  everj 

afternoon  laid  oul  the  table, as  she  once  remark- 
ed, ' j 1 1 - T   like   Miss  lilliotl  did.  the  day  she  found 
her  in  BUCh  trouble,  and  left  as  all  BO  happy.' 


A    TALE    OI'    ENGLISH    LIFE.  99 


C  II A  P  T  E  R    XI. 

'  Thank  God  for  toil,  for  hardships,  whence 
Come  courage,  patience,  hardihood; 
And  for  that  sad  experience 
Whi<  li  leaves  our  l  os  ims  fl  I  Mood  ; 

Which  leaves  us  tears  for  others'  woe. 
Brother  in  toil,  respect  thyself, 
And  let  thy  steadfast  virtues  show 
That  man  is  nobler  far  than  pelf.' 

_M  \uv  Howitt. 

Christmas!  merry,  joyous  Christmas,  drew 
near.  —  and  cur  friends  were  preparing  a  hearty 
welcome  for  the  'good  time  comirj 

The  last  few  mouths  had  been  marked  by 
singular  success  in  the  united  labors  of  Mr. 
Arnold  and  his  friends.  We  have  already 
noticed   the   prog  of   the  school,  under  the 

managemenl  of  Margaret  Elliott.  Equal  p 
perity  had  rewarded  the  efforts  of  her  sister 
laborers,  in  their  intercourse  with  the  humble 
and  neglected  of  their  own  sex,  —  many  a  heart 
had  been  awakened  to  a  knowledge  of  its  own 
rich  affections, —  many  a  home  had  been  beau- 
tified by  the  cultivation  of  those  divinest  gifts. 


100  L  \r.oi:    \\D   lovi:  : 

Mrs.  Herberl  was  indefatigable  in  her  exertions, 

and    unobtrusive,  thai    few,  Bave 

those  whose   daily  life   bore   testimony  to   her 

all-powerful  ministry,  knew  her  as  more  than  a 

devoted  wife    and    mother,  whose   sympathies 

re  chieflj  confined  to  tin-  narrow  circle  of  her 

a  household. 

' '  Imer  modestly  declined  the  office  <»f 
e  had   more  fully  prepare  d  herself, 
i    in  arer    approach    to    the    purity  of   her 
friend's  life,  :m<l  the  perfection  of  her  domestic 
lomy.     Many  were  the  hours  Jane  spenl  in 
working  for   M   ry,  to  enable  her  to  give  more 
time  to  the  instruction  of  the  ignorant,  or  nurs- 
ing ili«'  sick  :  and  often  would  she  make  articles 
of  apparel   for  her   to  distribute   among  those 
who    needed    Buch    assistance.      Palmer    grew 
proud  n(  Ins  wife,  as  he  witnessed,  day  by  day, 
some    higher   manifestation  of  ome 

new  proof  of  her  d  '  love.     His  own  mind 

une    •  ■    !■  1    by   the   contemplation   of  her 
worth,  and   the  example  of  his   friend  Charles 
bert,  with    whom    he    was    now   intimately 
associated. 

Wh.'ii  they  firsl  ende  I  to  organize  tin  ir 

Bociety,  many  were  attracted  by  its  name  and 
objects,  and  tin*  introductory  meeting  was 
tolerably  well  attended. 


A    TALE    OF    i:\r.Llsu    LIFE.  101 

Bui  when  it  was  explained  thai  none  could 
be  admitted  full  members  who  were  not  strictlj 
temperate  in  their  habil  -  and  pure  in  their  Bocial 
relations,  and  thai  satisfactory  testimonials  must 
be  produced,  a  large  number  Bhrunk  from  the 
trial.  The  regulations  were  pronounced  too 
strict  and  exclusive,  bul  Mr.  Arnold  and  his 
friends  remained  firm  in  their  determination  to 
admit  no  one  as  a  teacher  among  his  brethren, 
who  was  unprepared  to  illustrate  by  his  own 
example  the  truth  ^\'  the  greal  principles  he 
enforced.  The  classes  and  Lectures  were  open 
to  all  who  chose  to  attend;  the  above  named 
restrictions  only  applie'd  to  those  who  offered 
their  services  as  visitors,  or  instructors,  or  who 
desired  to  aid  the  cause  by  their  contributions. 
On  1 1 1  i -   last    head,   Mr.   Arnold  w  pecially 

firm.  The  resull  was,  that  few  joined  the  little 
band  of  reformers,  who.  nothing  daunted,  went 
on  their  way  rejoicing,  trusting  in  a  sure  pro- 
gress ami  gradual  enlargement  of  their  number. 

Harriet  Russell  had  introduced  Alfred  Pem- 
berton  to  the  Arnolds  a  few  days  after  she  met 
him  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Woodward.  He  soon 
became  warmly  attached  to  Mr.  Arnold,  and 
interested  in  all  his  undertakings. 

Alfred  was  educated  for  the  medical  pro- 
fession, but  having  inherited  a  large  property 


102  labor  and  love: 

from  liis  parents,  who  died  before  he  had  com- 
pleted  his  Btudies,  he  was  at  liberty  to  indulge 
the  desires  of  his  benevolent  nature.  Nothing 
could  1"'  :  big  than  this  vast  field  of 

pen  before  him,  and  he  bravely 
determined  to  dedicate  his  life  and  fortune  to 
.-(>  DOble  B  work. 

Mr.  Arnold,  too,  was  attracted  to  bis  young 
friend    in    no   common    d  Alfred's    rare 

p<>\  mind,  and  fervent  enthusiasm,  open- 

ed an  intercourse  between  them,  pure  and 
elevating  as  the  lofty  purpose  by  which  they 
were  onit<  d.  In  the  homes  <>f  the  neglected 
I  r,  by  the  couch  of  the  Bick  and  dying,  they 
were  constantly  ministering  to  the  humblest 
wants,  ch  the  faint  h<  I  •      ing  the 

>ping  spirit  from  earth  to  heaven. 

The  classes  foi  mutual  instruction,  which  had 
ituted  in  cpnn  i  with  the  Fraternal 

I  ion,  were  distinguished  by  nnusual  vigor. 
To  ili'  rtment   Alfred  particularly  devoted 

himself,  he  v.  irons  of  infusing  into  the 

younger  members  of  the  iation  an  ardent 

love  of  everything  pure  and  beautiful,  a  true 
sense  of  the  worth  of  man  apart  from  his  out- 
ward condition,  a  high  estimate  of  labor,  and 
the    n  f   ennobling  it  by  a  pure    life. 

He  would   patiently  guide    uneducated    youth 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  103 

through  the  simplest  elements  of  knowledge, 
smoothing  every  difficulty,  and  leading  his 
pupil  onward  with  that  clearness  only  attain- 
able by  a  master  mind.  He  frequently  took  the 
attitude  of  a  learner,  and  drew  from  those  he 
had  been  teaching  valuable  lessons  in  practical 
life,  perhaps  a  knowledge  of  some  branch  of 
manufacture,  or  an  illustration  of  customs  pre- 
valent among  those  lie  wished  to  exalt,  thus 
gaining  a  clearer  insight  into  their  homes  and 
hearts. 

As  a  lecturer,  his  influence  was  immense. 
Ciifted  with  vast  powers  of  thought  and  original- 
ity of  com  eption,  he  was  i  cabled  so  t<>  simplify 
the  most  intricate  subject,  that  even  dull,  un- 
intelligent minds  were  enlightened  and  inspired. 
The  rich  music  of  his  eloquence  subdued  t lie 
coarser  passions  of  his  hearers,  and  awakened 
the  harmonies  of  their  spiritual  nature.  His 
ardent  appeals  to  the  highest  faculties  in  man, 
to  his  best  affections,  won  many  a  wavering 
heart  to  virtue.  He  recognised  the  divine  in 
humanity,  and  ever  acknowledged  the  presence 
of  God  even  in  the  darkest  heart. 

One  evening,  when  Mr.  Arnold  and  his  young 
friend  were  seated  together  after  a  day  of  un- 
remitting toil,  Alfred  expressed  a  wish  to  know 
something  of   Charles    Herbert's    early  history, 


104  LABOB    AND    LOVE  : 

for  he  waa  deeply  impressed  \\  ith  the  nobility  of 
his  i  haracter,  and  the  graceful  simplicity  of  his 
domestic  life.  Mr.  Arnold  was  always  glad  of 
an  opportunity  to  speak  i>\'  one  whom  he  so 
highly  esteemed. 

•  Thai  m:in.'  said  he  to  Alfred,  'is  our  of  the 
brightesl  examples  of  moral  greatness  it  has 
been  my  lot  to  mee1  with.  Labor  is  indeed 
exalted  by  such  worshippers.5 

'  Yes,'  added  Alfred,  •  it"  Buch  men  were  more 
numerous,  labor,  insted  of  being  deemed  only 
fit  for  the  illiterate  and  vulgar,  would  assume  its 
true  position  and  become  the  test  of  superior 
minds.  When  did  you  first  become  acquainted 
with  Herbert  ! ' 

'Soon  after  my  settlement  in  the  ministry. 
He  was  then  ith  of  great  promise.     I  mel 

him  at  the  house  of  one  of  my  parishioners, 
parents  were  both  dead,  so  thai  he  de- 
pended solely  upon  his  own  efforts.  You  Know 
how  trifling  an  apprentice's  wa{  .  yet  even 

then    he   contrived    to    save    a    small    Him 
week,    besides    -paring    something    for    others. 

n  have  I  known  him  take  his  dinner  to 
some  poor  creature  who  was  unable  to  work, 
and  sit  down  himself  to  a  slice  of  brown  bread 
and  a  cup  of  water,  with  such  glad  smiles  upon 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH.  LIFE.  105 

his  handsome  face,  he  seemed  the  very  personi- 
fication of  Benevolence.' 

'  One  might  almost  wish  to  be  poor  to  ex- 
perience such  blissful  moments,'  said  Alfred. 
'I  cannot  comprehend  how  he  acquired  all  the 
valuable  knowledge  he  possesses,  without  neg- 
lecting other  employments.' 

'  My  dear  friend,'  replied  Mr.  Arnold,  'I  never 
knewT  Charles  neglect  a  single  known  duty; 
and  yet  he  found  time  for  self-culture,  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  giving  him  some  assistance, 
and  can  testify  to  his  uncommon  industry  and 
earnestness.  He  generally  came  to  me  two 
evenings  a  week,  when  I  endeavored  to  simplify 
and  explain  difficuH  branches  of  study,  and 
gave  him  such  on  amount  of  mental  labor  as 
would  thoroughly  tax  hi>  energies  till  our  next 
meeting.  The  hours  we  spent  together  at  that 
time  are  some  of  the  pleasantest  recollections 
of  my  life.' 

'  Happy  recollections,  indeed ! '  said  Alfred. 
'  To  be  instrumental  in  forming  such  a  mind  is 
an  enviable  privilege.  Was  Herbert  always 
distinguished  by  that  enthusiasm  and  deep  re- 
ligious trust  which  he  possesses  in  such  an 
eminent  degree  ? ' 

'  From  my  first  acquaintance  with  him,  I  was 
struck  with  these  elements  of  greatness  in  his 


106  LABOR    AND    LOVE : 

character,  and  encouraged  their  growth.  All 
my  instruction  was  based  upon  this  founda- 
tion.' 

'  And  nobly  has  he  improved  your  lessons. 
Wha1  an  independent  position  he  has  attained. 
His  home,  too,  how  it  is  furnished  with  comforts 
and  adorned  with  beauty.' 

'  Alfred,  \  mi  would  have  rejoiced  with  me  had 
yon  known  how  (.diaries  Herbert,  when  a  very 
young  man,  began  to  provide  for  a  life  of  domes- 
tic felicity,  how  many  youthful  pleasures  he  gave 
up,  that  he  mighl  be  enabled  to  welcome  the 
mistress  of  his  affections  to  a  bright  and  happy 
home.  I  well  remember  once,  when  he  had 
ived  an  increase  of  wages,  he  burst  into 
my  room  with  a  jo)  ind<  scribable,  and  grasping 
my  hand  within  both  his  own,  pressed  it  to  his 
heart,  as  he  said  with  impassioned  earnestness, 
u  My  dear  friend,  T  can  now  give  you  more 
money  to  keep  for  me,  I  will  live  more  frugally 
than  ever,  and  shall  in  a  few  years  save  enough 
to  make  a  home  for  my  beloved  Mary.  She  is 
so  beautiful,  so  good,  Mr.  Arnold,  I  would  never 
ask  her  to  be  my  wife,  unless  I  could  provide 
for  her  as  she  deserves." ' 

'  Brave,  noble  Charles  ! '  said  Alfred.  '  He 
was  worthy  of  his  lovely  Mary,  and  won  her 
soon,  I  doubt  not.' 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  107 

'  He  toiled  diligently  for  five  years,  every 
week  bringing  part  of  his  earnings  for  me  to 
take  care  of,  frequently  substituting  unpalatable 
though  wholesome  food  for  a  more  tempting 
meal ;  practising  the  most  rigid  economy  in 
clothing,  indeed  in  every  personal  expense,  that 
he  might  add  to  his  little  store.  At  the  end  of 
that  period,  I  had  the  happiness  of  uniting  him 
to  the  object  of  his  devoted  love.  Mary  proved 
in  every  respect  a  fit  companion  for  her  excel- 
lent husband.  Such  marriages  truly  have  their 
origin  in  heaven.' 

'  I  have  no  faith  in  any  marriage,'  observed 
Alfred,  'that  has  not  its  origin  in  those  holiest 
affections  of  bur  nature  which  are  born  of  God. 
A  union  formed  by  these,  is  eternal  as  their 
source,  and  its  full  bliss  can  only  be  realized  in 
the  immortal  life.' 

Mr.  Arnold's  face  was  turned  upwards  for  a 
moment,  and  tears  gathered  in  his  eyes  as  he 
breathed  silently  a  loved   and  cherished  name. 

After  a  brief  silence,  Alfred  spoke  again. 

'  If  I  understand  aright,  Charles  Herbert  first 
led  your  thoughts  to  a  more  intimate  connection 
with  the  working  people  of  this  district.' 

'  He  did.  To  him  I  am  indebted  for  my 
first  knowledge  of  their  condition  and  wants. 
Through     him    came    that    inspiration    which 


108  BOB    A\H    I.o\ 

aroused   me  to  ponsibiliti 

ami  enabled  me  cheerfoll)  to  renounce  honors 
ami  wealth,  and  devote  myself  to  the  Bervio 
ui_\  depressed  brethren.  I  could  « 1 « >  this  freely, 
M-'  I  possessed  a  moderate  income,  which 
placed  me  above  pecuniar}  dependence  on  my 
ministerial  dutii 

•  Maj    I  a-k  how  y>n  G  immenced  your 
k  .' '  inquired  Alfred. 

•  B)  visiting  the  homes  of  mir  people.  M) 
first  attempts  were  m>i  very  successful,  through 
in_\  ignorance  of  man)  circumstances  in  the 
life  of  thoa  I  wished  to  benefit  Here  my 
friend  Herbert's  knowli  invaluable. 
With  hi-  help  1  ■  We  to  penetrate  into 
many  an   abode  when             I   migbl    not  hare 

lined  admission,  and  thus  gained  the  m  * 
v.;ir\  experience  much  sooner  than  1  could  1; 
done  unaided  and  alone.  One  of  t»ur  earl 
efforts   was    the  lishment   of   the    School. 

On  thi  felt,  depended  much  of  our  suture 

I  -.     W<    loart    no  time  in  hiring  om, 

and   in  a  f'  v.    months    had   th<  ion  of 

ing  marly  forty  Little  onei  abled.     Ellen 

took  cl  of  them  for  a  while,  with  such  help 

as  I  could  render.      Then   I   persuaded  a  few 
ladies  of  my  former   co  ion    to   aid 

You  know  the  result  of  that  experiment.1 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  109 

Alfred  smiled,  and  inquired  if  John  Palmer 
had  been  an  intemperate  man  before  he  became 

changed. 

' B)  no  means,1  answered  Mr.  Arnold.  'He 
like   manj    persons  \\>'  in   daily  life, 

abstaining  Brora  gifted  with 

a  natural  kindness  of  disposition  thai  would 
not  intentionally  give  pain  to  others,  jei  Living 
for  no  high  purpose,  unconscious  of  his  solemn 
onsibilities ;  in  Bhort,  dreaming  awaj  ex- 
istence a-  thousands  do,  in  <lnll  spiritless  labor 

and  animal  enjoj  ments.' 

'Such,'  rejoined    Alfred,   'is    the   life  of  too 

many,  both   rich    ami    poor.      I   think   these    need 

reformation  as  well  as  the  grossly  vicious  and 
intemperate,  and  I  am  rejoiced  to  find  many 
such  entering  onr  Union.  The  effeci  i>\  wo- 
man's influence,  too,  is  beginning  to  be  felt 
among  us.  By  the  bye,  my  relative,  Mrs. 
Woodward,  canno-1  even  now  be  broughl  to 
appreciate  Miss  Elliott's  services  in  the  school.' 

'Why?'  inquired  Mr.  Arnold. 

'She  feel-  dissatisfied  aboul  her  having  lived 
with  such  people  as  the  Edwards',  and  will  not 
believe1  that  lofty  purity  of  character  could  exist 
unstained,  when  surrounded  by  coarseness  and 
vice.' 

r  is  in  such  places,'  said  Mr.  Arnold,  'that 


110  LABOR    AND    LOVE  I 

the  rarest  virtues  arc  sometimes  discovered.  I 
am  as  conscious  as  any  one  of  the  great  power 
of  circumstances,  and  of  the  value  of  good  ex- 
ample in  forming  character,  but  I  know  there  is 
a  higher  power  still,  dwelling  in  humanity ;  a 
power  that  often  preserves  sinless  and  beautiful 
souls  in  the  midst  of  sin  and  deformity.  I  have 
been  blamed  for  giving  credence  too  easily  to 
Margaret's  relation  of  her  former  life,  but  it  was 
not  the  mere  words  falling  from  her  lips  that 
revealed  the  truth  so  eloquently,  it  was  the 
sincerity  of  every  action,  that  lovely  singleness 
of  heart,  which  is  one  of  her  brightest  orna- 
ments. Besides,  Mrs.  Norton  knew  her  well, 
and  I  can  always  rely  on  that  good  woman's 
judgment.' 

'  Mr.  Arnold,  it  is  unworthy  of  us  even  to 
allude  to  such  suspicions  now.  Miss  Elliot  is 
raised  far  above  them.  I  look  on  her  with 
feelings  of  reverence  such  as  few  women  inspire 
me  with,  and  believe  she  will  fulfil  a  glorious 
destiny.  Genius  is  enshrined  in  that  gifted 
mind,  I  am  sure.  Some  powerful  inspiration 
alone  is  needed  to  kindle  the  flame  and  bless 
the  world  with  its  light.' 

A  gentle  rap  at  the  door  interrupted  the  con- 
versation. It  announced  the  return  of  George 
and  his  sisters,  who  had  been  spending  the  even- 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  Ill 

ing  with  Mrs.  Palmer.  After  describing  a  very 
pleasant  visit,  Ellen  sat  down  to  the  piano  and 
played  some  of  her  father's  favorite  airs,  ac- 
companying them  with  her  voice.  She  sang 
with  a  power  and  expression  which  surprised 
Alfred,  who,  until  then,  had  no  idea  that  the 
simple,  unassuming  girl,  nearly  always  em- 
ployed in  some  humble  duty,  possessed  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  the  science,  combined 
with  a  masterly  execution.  She  had  a  most 
delicate  ear,  and  in  past  days  received  in- 
struction from  a  superior  teacher.  This  much 
valued  acquirement  was  frequently  exercised  to 
gladden  their  simple  home.  Her  talents  were 
employed  for  others,  and  her  highest  reward 
was  the  approval  of  her  beloved  parent. 

'  You  will  spend  Christmas  day  with  us, 
Alfred  ? '  said  Mr.  Arnold,  as  the  young  man 
xose  to  take  leave. 

'  With  pleasure,  my  dear  Sir ;  and  as  you 
intend  holding  the  children's  festival  the  day 
after,  I  may  be  of  service  to  you  in  the  pre- 
parations.' 

'  Oh,  yes !  Mr.  Pemberton,'  cried  George. 
{  Papa  has  ordered  a  quantity  of  holly  and 
misletoe  to  decorate  the  room,  and  Susan  says 
no  one  can  give  directions  so  well  as  you.' 

1  Indeed,  George,  I  am  afraid  Susan  is  rather 


112  LABOR    AND    LOVE  I 

inl.     However,  I  will    do    my  best,  dep 
on  it.' 

'And  we  shall  have  a  greal  Christmas  ti 
Mr.  Pemberton.     Paps  Bmall   ones  won't 

answer  for  so  many  of  us.     Charlott 
is  making ' 


'Hush,  George,5  jaid  his  sister,  'these  are 
secrets,  yon  Know,  till  the  time  com< 

'  I  quite  forgol  that,  Nelly.  I  fell  so  happy  I 
wanted  to  tell  i  hing.     Papa   has   bought 

me ' 

Ellen  put  an  end  to  any  further  revelations 
on  the  pari  of  George,  by  kissing  him  most 
unmercifully. 

•  \..  .  •  r,  T  will    be    quiet.     May  I  help 

Mr.  Pemberton  all  the  time? ' 

'That  you  shall.'  said  Alfred,  ;  and  we  will 
arrange  our  plans  to-morrov 

George  clapped  his  hand-  for  joy,  and  could 
not  resist  running  after  Alfred,  when  he  had  left 
the  bouse,  to  remind  him  thai  Charlotte  Herbert 
was  making  a  beautiful  present  for  somebody^ 
and  thai  he  had  gained  her  permission  to  fasten 
it  on  the  Christmas  tree. 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  113 


CHAPTER    XII. 

1  Ye  who  have  loved  each  other, 
Sister  and  friend  and  brother, 

In  this  fast  fading  year  ; 
Mother,  and  sire  and  child, 
Young  man  and  maiden  mild, 

Come  gather  here. 

'  Let  sinned  against  and  sinning, 
Forget  their  strife's  beginning, 
And  join  in  friendship  now  ; 
Be  links  no  longer  broken, 
Be  sweet  forgiveness  spoken, 
Under  the  holly-bough.' 

Charles  Mackay. 

Mr.  Arnold,  who  made  the  joys  and  sorrows 
of  all  who  were  in  any  way  connected  with  him, 
his  own.  could  take  pleasure  in  no  festivity  apart 
from  his  little  flock.  He  had  great  faith  in  the 
benign  influence  of  joy,  and  strove,  by  every 
means  in  his  power,  to  promote  cheerful  inter- 
course, and  an  interchange  of  kindly  offices. 
The  great  festival  of  Christmas  offered  many 
opportunities  for  the  cultivation  of  the  social 
8 


114  LABOR    AND    LOVE  ! 

affections,  and  hearts  long  estranged  from  each 
other,  were,  al  thai  holy  time,  often  re-united  in 
bonds  of  enduring  love.  Among  the  numerous 
gatherings  thai  graced  the  Beason,  Done  claimed 
so  large  a  .-hare  of  interest  as  the  children's  jubi- 
Preparations  <>n  an  extensive  Bcale  were 
made  for  this  important  event,  long  before  its 
arrival,  and  both  parents  and  children  eagerly  an- 
ticipated the  pleasures  in  .-tore  for  them.  This 
'.-  anniversary  was  Looked  forward  to  with 
unusual  expectation,  for  it  was  whispered  abroad 
thai  Alfred  Pemberton  was  to  superintend  the 
decorations,  and  had  purchased  some  beautiful 
pictures  as  a  Christmas  presenl  to  the  society, 
intending  they  Bhould  adorn  the  walls  of  the 
Bchool-house.  It  was  also  understood  that  Ellen 
Arnold  would  have  her  piano  removed  tie  re, 
ami  perhaps  would  sing,  and  play  Borne  tunes 
for  them  to  dance  to.  Neverwere  the  pleasures 
of  anticipation  more  fully  experienced,  than  by 
these  simple,  loving  people. 

At  Length  the  much  wished  for  day  arrived. 
It  was  agreed  upon  thai  the  children  should 
assemble  early  in  the  afternoon,  and  partake  of 
some  refreshment.  Afterwards,  as  many  of 
their  parents  and  friends  as  could  be  accommo- 
dated, were  to  join  thern,  when  the  Christmas 
tree  would  be  exhibited,  and  its  load  of  festal 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH     LIFE.  llO 

gifts  interchanged.     Nor  were  they  disappointed 

in  the  decorations,  which  were  indeed  the  work 
of  Alfred's  own  hands.  Graceful  festoon-  were 
hung  around  with  rare  taste  and  skill.  At  that 
end  of  the  room,  where  the  teacher's  desk 
usually  stood,  was  suspended  a  large  and  beau- 
tiful picture,  representing  Christ  blessing  little 
children,  and  underneath  were  the  words,  '  Suf- 
fer little  children  to  come  unto  me,  and  forbid 
them  not,  for  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  Heaven.' 
There  were,  also,  several  smaller  paintings  — 
domestic  scenes,  telling  of  happy  homes  and 
loving  hearts,  and  portraits  of  some  of  the 
noblest  benefactors  of  mankind.  What  a  bless- 
ing is  wealth,  when  used  by  iis  possessor  to 
draw  aside  the  veil  which  hides  from  mankind 
the  light  and  beauty  of  God's  all-pervading 
spirit,  that  they  may  fed  themselves  encircled 
with  His  infinite  love. 

It  was  an  exhilarating  scene  when  the  curtain 
which  concealed  the  Christmas  tree,  was  raised, 
and  it  stood  before  the  children,  illuminated  by 
variegated  lamps,  arranged  so  as  to  form  charm- 
ing devices  and  mottoes.  Fruit,  in  profusion, 
hung  from  its  boughs  of  evergreen,  interspersed 
with  an  endless  variety  of  toys,  and  tasteful 
articles  of  needlework.  A  sudden  burst  of 
applause  broke  forth,  and  it  was  with  difficulty 


116 


LABOR    AND    LOVE : 


sufficient   order  was  restored,  for  the  ceremony 
of  exchanging  presents  to  proceed. 

Mr.  Arnold  and  Margaret  were  selected  to 
preside  over  tin-  distribution,  and  as  one  bright 
little  face  after  another  was  held  np,  while  gifts 
and  kisses  were  exchanged,  their  faith  in  tin; 
omnipotence  of  love  gained  strength,  and  new 
revelations  of  the  divine  mission  of  Beauty 
d<  scended  upon  them. 

At  George's  request,  a  parcel  made  up  in 
very  delicate  paper,  and  tied  with  blue  ribbon, 
was  left  till  the  last;  then  Alfred  Pemberton 
was  asked  u>  read  aloud  a  note  Charlotte 
Herberl  had  written.  It  was  addressed  to  Mr. 
Arnold,  in  the  name  of  all  the  pupils,  thanking 
him  for  his  watchful  can',  and  expressing,  in 
simple  language,  their  grateful  sense  of  the 
labors  of  their  beloved  teachere. 

Ii  concluded  thus:  'We  are  so  happy  that. 
Mi->  Elliott  came  to  he  our  teacher;  she  is  so 
good  and  gentle  we  love  her  more  than  we  can 
tell,  and  hope  she  will  never  leave  our  school. 
We  venture  to  offer  you  a  -mall  token  of  our 
gratitude,  and  beg  our  dear  friends  who  have 
been  so  kind,  to  accept  the  accompanying  trifles 
from  their  affectionate  pupils.' 

Here  followed  a  long  list  of  names. 

The  parcel,  upon  being  opened,  was  found  to 


A.    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  117 

p 

contain  an  exquisitely  wrought  purse  for   Mr. 

Arnold,  two  pockei  Testaments,  richly  bound,  as 
presents  to  Ellen  and  Harriet,  and  for  Margaret 
a  finely  braided  chain,  composed  of  some  of 
the  childrens'  hair,  and  mounted  in  gold.  The 
purse  was  made  by  Charlotte;  this  was  the 
important  secrei  George  found  it  so  difficull  to 
keep.  A  weekly  subscription  had  been  going 
on  among  the  children,  for  a  long  time,  and 
thej  began  to  despair  of  coll<  <  ting  a  sufficient 
sum  to  carry  out  their  project,  when  George 
became  acquainted  with  the  circumstance,  and 
Immediately  contributed  his  savings  to  the 
common  Btock.  The  Little  fellow  had  intended 
to  purchase  some  valuable  presents  lor  his 
father  and  si-ier,  but  that  he  thought  would 
limit  the  gratification  of  giving  to  himself; 
whereas,  by  joining  in  the  henevolent  plans  of 
others,  many  hearts  might  be  gladdened.  It 
would  be  difficult  to  determine  who  were  most 
blessed,  the  givers  or  the  recipients  of  these 
beautiful  offering 

Now  Alfred  Pemberton  proposed  a  country 
dance.  The  room  was  quickly  cleared  of 
superfluous  forms  and  tables.  Ellen  struck  up 
a  merry  tune,  and  all  were  soon  in  motion. 
Mr.  Arnold  opened  the  dance  with  Margaret. 
George  would  not  be   satisfied  without  Susan 


118  la  linn    \\d   LOVE  : 

for  a  partner.  After  some  trouble  he  found  her, 
and  they  took  their  places.  The  boy  was  proud 
of  their  faithful  servant,  and  seized  every  oppor- 
tunity of  showing  his  respecl  and  love  to  one 
who  so  well  merited  them. 

The  dancing  was  kept  up  with  greal  spirit, 
till  Kill  a  was  requested  to  sing.  She  complied 
without  hesitation,  selecting  some  Christmas 
carols,  with  which  the  children  were  enraptured. 
Then  they  all  united  iii  Binging  their  own  sweet 
hymns,  that  -he  and  Margarel  had  taught  them. 
Thus  the  evening  passed  away.  Mr.  Arnold 
delivered  a  shorl  address  before  they  parted, 
and  closed  with  a  fervent  thanksgiving  to  the 
benign  Father  of  all.  for  the  joyous  hours  He 
had  given  them. 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  119 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

'  Oh  thou  that  in  its  wildest  hour, 
Hi'Nt  rule  the  tempest's  mood, 
Send  thy  meek  Spirit  forth  in  power, 
Soft  on  our  souls  to  brood  ! 

'  Thou  that  didst  bow  the  billows'  pride 

Thy  mandate  to  fulfil ! 
O,  speak  to  passion's  raging  tide, 
Speak  and  say,  Peace,  be  still !  ' 

Mrs.  Hemans. 

Time  glided  on,  and  more  closely  cemented 
the  friendship  of  Mr.  Arnold  and  his  enthusiastic 
young  friend.  Alfred  was  a  constant  visitor 
at  Woodland  Cottage,  and  was  admitted  so 
freely  into  the  confidence  of  the  whole  family, 
that  all  ceremony  was  cast  aside,  and  he  had 
the  privilege  of  spending  most  of  his  leisure 
evenings  in  their  society.  Such  unrestrained 
intercourse  gradually  revealed  to  him  the  vir- 
tues and  talents  of  the  two  girls,  and  drew  forth 
many  beauties  of  character  hitherto  concealed 
in  the  sanctuary  of  their  minds.  He  looked  up 
to  Margaret  with  mingled  love  and  reverence,  as 


120  LABOR    AND    LOVI.  ! 

to  a  being  raised  above  the  common  weaknes 
of  humankind,  who  had  a  loftj  destiny  to  fulfil, 
far  beyond  her  presenl  sphere  of  duty,  and  he 
could  conceive  no  higher  addition  to  her  happi- 
ness than  the  use  of  thai  rich  gifl  of  genius, 
of  whose  existence  he  received  everj  daj  Borne 
new  and  convincing  proof.  Hut  with  far  dif- 
fer.-m  feelings  he  regarded  the  gentle  Ellen. 
Her  entire  Belf-devotion  to  others,  thai  Bimple 
grace  which  lenl  Buch  a  charm  to  the  humblesl 
employment,  her  ingenuous  hrusl  thai  was  a 
r  to  suspicion,  bo  won  upon  his  heart, 
thai  it  began  to  yield  m  her  power,  mid  told 
him  how  incomplete  life  would  be  without  this 
gentle  being  to  -hare  and  Me—  his  l<>t. 

With  that  maiik  - i i n ■  •  r i t \  which  governed 
all  bis  actions,  he  determined  at  once  to  disclose 
his  sentiments,  and  ascertain  Ellen's  feelings 
towards  him,  thai  he  might,  Bhould  necessity 
demand  the  effort,  Btrive  to  conquer  a  passion 
it  would  be  wrong  to  indulge,  if  r- 1 1« ■  could 
not  return  it,  or  her  affections  were  given  to 
another. 

One  afternoon,  when  Margarel  returned  from 
school,  she  found  Mr.  Arnold  alone  in  the  par- 
lor. On  inquiring  for  Ellen,  she  b&w  from  her 
fatl  ountenance   thai    something   unusual 

had  occurred.      He    drew    her   tenderly    towards 


A    TAI.E    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  121 

him,  saying  — ;  I  bless  God  thai  he  lias  given 
me  a  second  daughter,  and  Buch  an  one  as  my 
Margaret  'Another  now  claims  my  darling 
Ellen,  and  although  it  is  hard  to  resign  her,  I 
rejoice  in  her  happiness.  You  will  Bhare  in  it, 
1  am  Bure,  and  approve  ih<'  choice  Bhe  has 
made.     Alfred  — ' 

N<»  Booner  had  he  pronounced  thai  name, 
than  an  alarming  paleness  overspread  the  fea- 
tures of  Margaret,  and  her  trembling  limits 
refused  their  support  ;  ye1  Bhe  retained  her 
senses,  and.  with  an  effort  almost  superhuman, 
strove  to  rouse  herself  to  endurance.  A<  her 
tender  guardian  1 » « - 1 1 1  over  her,  Bhe  knew  he  read 
the  deep  secret  of  her  heart,  and  would  preserve 
it  with  sacred  fidelity.  She  tried  to  Bpeak,  hut 
could  onlj  faintl)  murmur  —  - 1  Knew  not  my 
own  weakness.  Oh,  help  me  through  this  fiery 
trial;  pray,  pray  for  strength.9  Supporting  her 
trembling  frame,  and  drawing  her  -till  closer  to 
him,  he  poured  forth,  as  well  as  his  agitation 
would  permit,  a  few  simple  word-,  expressive 
of  the  suffering  weakness  that  trusted  in  an 
Almighty  arm  for  deliverance. 

Since  the  time  of  her  iirst  introduction  to 
Alfred.  Margaret  had  fondly  cherished  his  image. 
True,  she  indulged  no  idle  dreams  of  love,  and 
never  connected  with  her  thoughts  of  him  any 


1  22  LABOR    AM)    LOVE  ! 

distincl  impressions  of  partiality  i<>  herself:  l»ut 
he  was  so  far  elevated  above  men  in  general, 
and  Bbe  bad  enjoyed  such  free  intercourse  -with 
him,  that  In-  unconsciously  became  the  centre 
of  attraction  round  which  her  purest  hopes  and 
holiest  aspirations  revolved.  The  germs  of  great- 
ness in  her  bou]  derived  their  nutriment  from 
his  sympathy  and  culture.  By  the  riches  of  hi* 
gifted  mind  her  knowledge  had  been  increased, 
ami  her  intellect  expanded,  till  he  seemed 
blended  with  her  very  existence.  In  her  young 
and  anient  imagination,  he  had  lived  almost 
an  object  of  worship.  Deceived  by  this  idolatry, 
she  knew  not  the  Bpell  that  bound  her,  till  the 
startling  truth  l>ur-i  forth  through  tin-  sudden 
intelligence  of  Ellen's  engagement.  Then  the 
high-souled  Margaret,  so  strong  in  spirit,  bo  -elf- 
reliant,  till  -he  appeared  raised  almost  above 
human  frailties,  found  herself  the  victim  of  a 
-ion.  perhaps  <'f  all  others  the  most  powerful 
and  difficult  i<>  subdue.  This  discovery  did 
not  overwhelm  her  with  disappointment;  for, 
unconscious  of  her  Love,  she  had  nourished  no 
fond  expectation.  A  vague  feeling  of  loss  was 
mingled  with  painful  self-reproach  :  but  her*s 
was  not  ;i  nature  to  sink  into  hopeless  despon- 
dency, even  under  Buch  a  weight  of  sorrow. 
Her  expansive   benevolence  was   to   receive   a 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  123 

new  impulse,  and  her  intellect,  wedded  to  a  lofty 
idealism,  bring  forth  in  rich  abundance  inspira- 
tions which,  translated  into  poetry,  would  kindle 
in  the  breasts  of  thousands  a  noble  zeal,  an 
enlightened  patriotism,  urging  them  on  in  their 
mora]  warfare,  from  conquest  to  conquest,  till 
the  redemption  of  their  country  should  be  com- 
pined.  Hut  many  and  hitter  were  the  conflicts 
through  which  this  line  spirit  was  doomed  to 
pa--,  tic  it  came  forth  victorious.  80  Bevere 
was  its  discipline,  as  somen  m<  s  to  threaten  the 
mortal  tenement  with  dissolution. 

A  long  and  Bevere  illness  followed  the  dis- 
closure. That  intensity  of  feeling,  known  only 
to  the  self-accusing  and  deeply  wounded  spirit, 
brought  the  suffering  girl  to  a  condition  of  in- 
fantine weakness  and  dependence.  Through 
this  period  of  trial.  Ellen  tended  her  like  some 
guardian  angel,  ministering  to  her  wants  with 
the  gentlest  care,  and  whiling  away  the  tedious 
hours  of  pain  by  every  art  the  mosl  affectionate 
solicitude  could  suggest.  Nothing  would  have 
done  so  much  to  aid  Margaret's  conquest  over 
herself  as  this  devotion  on  the  part  of  her  friend. 
Gratitude  began  to  occupy  the  place  of  unre- 
quited pas-ion.  and  she  strove  to  banish  every 
thought  of  Alfred  as  it  arose,  till  she  could  look 
upon  him  calmly  as   the  affianced  husband  of 


124  I.  LBOB    and    lovi:  : 

Ellen,  ;iii(l  hold  them  together  in  her  la-art  with 
undivided  love. 

After  Borne  months  of  severe  endurance,  Mar- 
garel  was  Bufficientl)  recovered  to  We  removed 
for  change  of  air.  and  apartments  were  provided 
for  her  in  a  lovely,  retired  village,  aboul  ten 
miles  distant.  With  a  delicate  attention  t<>  her 
every  comfort,  Ellen  made  arrangements  foj 
Busan  to  attend  her;  meanwhile  engaging  the 

services  of  ;i   | :  widow  with  whom  Bhe  had 

become  acquainted  during  her  visits  of  mercy, 
for  tin-  work  of  the  household.  Margaret  sus- 
tained the  parting  with  more  courage  than  she 
expected,  and  was  greatly  relieved  when  Mr. 
Arnold  informed  Alfred  it  would  be  unnecessary 
to  accompany  the  traveller-:  and  as  the  invalid 
needed  quietude,  Bhe  had  better  be  left  to  the 
sole-  ear*  of  the  faithful  Susan. 

During  the  absence  of  their  beloved  teacher, 
the  children  were  confided  to  the  attention  of 
Harriet  Russell,  who  had  willingly  offered  her 
services,  though  not  without  strong  opposition 
from  Mrs.  Sharpe.  Every  week  Bhe  had  the  grat- 
ification ^i  communicating  to  Margaret  happy 
tidings  of  her  own  Buccess  in  teaching,  and  of 
the  steady  progress  of  her  pupils.  She  generally 
enclosed  letters  from  some  of  them,  speaking 
of  their  continued    attachment   to    their   '  dear 


A    TALK    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE. 


125 


Miss  Elliott,'  and  their  fervent  hopes  for  her  re- 
covery. Mr.  Arnold  frequently  visited  his  adopt- 
ed daughter,  generally  accompanied  by  Ellen 
or  Harriet.  He  experienced  a  proud  satisfaction 
in  witnessing,  n«»i  only  an  improvement  in  her 
health,  bu1  a  gradual  return  of  that  cheerful  ani- 
mation, which  drew  all  heart-  towards  her.  At 
length  a  time  was  fixed  for  her  to  return  home, 
and  en-  it  arrived,  she  wrote  ;i  long  letter  to  her 
dear  father,  as  -he  now  called  him.  telling  of 
her  struggles  and  triumph  :  exulting  in  the  anti- 
cipation of  dedicating  her  free  heart  and  hand 
to    the    furtherance    of    hi-    labors    of   love;    and 

continued,  — » I  thank  God  for  this  severe  yet 
purifying  discipline.  Through  which  I  am  ena- 
bled to  look  with  a  clearer  vision  upon  the 
inward  and  outward  life.      I  have  been  told  that 

love  is  unconquerable;  lmt  my  experience  has 

proved  that  religion  can  control  and  subdue 
even  that  master  passion  of  the  soul,  when 
indulgence  would  dim  the  spotless  purity  by 
which  ii  is  ennobled,  or  would  mar  the  happi- 
ness of  another.  I  can  now  meet  our  beloved 
Ellen  without  a  single  feeling  I  need  blush  to 
avow,  and  give  Alfred  joy  in  the  possession  of 
so  priceless  a  treasure.  Yes,  my  friend,  my 
father,  I  am  free,  blest,  and  happy.' 


126  LABOR    AND    LOVE  ! 

'  How  beautiful  our  Margaret  looks!'  said 
Ellen  to  Alfred,  one  evening  when  they  were 
alone  together.  -Since  her  illness,  there  is 
something  about  her  so  spiritual  and  holy,  I 
regard  her  with  sentiments  Little  short  of  ado- 
ration.' 

•  Such  are  precisely  my  own  feelings,'  he  re- 
plied, -and  ye1  hei  playfulness,  and  child-like 
simplicity,  link  her  very  closely  with  our  mortal 
sympathii 

'Alfred.  I  wish  yon  could  have  seen  the  chil- 
dren yesterday,  when  she  visited  the  school  for 
the  firsl  time.  The  scene  was  quite  overpower- 
ing. She  look.. |  bo  happy  to  be  in  her  old  place 
again,' 

'  May  she  Long  occupy  it.  loved  and  blest  as  Bhe 
deserves  to  be,' warml)  responded  Alfred;  'but 
at  pre-. ait  you  have  prior  claims  upon  her  ser- 
vices.   Her  office  of  bridesmaid  empowers  you  to 

enforce  them  ;   and  we  cannot    afford  to  lose  her 

again  so  Boon.' 

Ellen  looked  very  thoughtful,  and  remained 
silent   some  moments,  then  said,  musingly,  —  '1 

wonder  if  Margaret  will  ever  marry?' 

'  That  is  a  question  very  dilficult  to  solve, 
Nelly.  I  sometimes  think  her  too  dependent 
upon  her  own  rare  gifts  to  concentrate  her 
affections    upon    any   one   not   vastly    superior 


A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  127 

even  to  herself,  and  I  believe  no  man  could 
win  her  love,  unless  he  strove  through  years  of 
probation  to*  prove  himself  worthy.  She  would, 
in  my  opinion,  exact  this  trial.' 

'  Alfred,  you  wrong  her.  Margaret  is  too 
generous,  too  good,  to  make  stilish  calculations 
where  the  heart  is  concerned.  Perhaps,  if  you 
could  penetrate  the  depths  of  her  pure  nature, 
you  would  form  a  different  opinion.' 

Had  he,  indeed,  truly  understood  that  heroic 
yet  loving  nature,  would  he  have  spoken  thus? 
*  *  *  * 

In  one  short  month,  Alfred  and  his  Ellen  were 
united  in  marriage,  pledging  at  the  sacred  altar 
a  faith  pure  and  free,  for  time  and  for  eternity. 
Margaret's  happiness  transcended  even  theirs, 
as  she  fervently  blessed  them,  rejoicing  in  the 
victory  she  had  won. 


128  LABOR    AND    LOVE  I 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

ing  i"  the  ^lirine  of  power 
< '  r  hands  shall  never  bring, 
A  garland  on  the  C  kl  "I  ) > •  •  1 1 1 1> 
' '   r  h.m.N  shall  never  fL 

auding  in  ihe  conqueror's  path 
0      voices  ne'er  shall 

Bnt  we  have  i  I »r  those 

Who  I  ade  the  world  20  free  ! ' 

i;       BBT  NlCi 

Some  years  after  the  events  just  narrated,  a 
wonderful  alteration  was  apparent  in  the  scene 
of  Mr.  Arnold's  ministerial  labors.  The  old 
sehoolhouse  \\:i-  qo  more  to  be  seen,  but  in  its 
place  Btood  n  beautiful  little  chapel,  on  either 
side  of  which  were  spacious  rooms  for  the  use 
of  the  school,  :md  oilier  branches  of  the  Society. 
ry  department  manifested  signs  of  prosperity 
and  pr<  — living  proofs  of  the  triumph  of 

benevolent  labor. 

Alfred  Remberton  was  the  poss<  ssor  of  a  splen- 
did mansion  a  few  miles  distant  from  Birminsr- 
ham,  and  he  had  once  proposed  to  Ellen  that  it 


•A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  129 

should  bo  famished  for  their  future  home;  but 
when  she  p&intcd  out  to  him  the  benefits  they 
might  confer  upon  others,  if,  instead  of  occupy- 
ing it  themselves,  the  rent  could  be  made  availa- 
ble, he  entered  at  once  into  her  plans.  They  took 
a  pretty  gothic  cottage,  which,  when  adorned  by 
Ellen's  exquisite  taste,  and  brightened  by  her 
presence,  became  a  paradise  for  the  heart  to 
dwell  in.  By  this,  and  other  means  equally 
benevolent,  they  were  enabled  to  contribute 
most  of  the  money  required  for  the  erection  of 
the  now  buildings,  and  to  Bel  apart  the  largest 
share  of  thoir  Income  for  deeds  of  mercy. 

The  Palmers  were  residing  in  a  delightful 
little  homo,  similar  to  that  of  thoir  friend  Charles 
Herbert,  whose  society  and  that  of  his  amiable 
wife  they  continued  to  enjoy,  and  proved  in 
every  respect  worthy  of  such  a  privilege.  Jane 
had  so  well  used  the  lessons  she  received  from 
Mary,  that  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  decide 
which  of  their  peaceful  dwellings  was  most  at- 
tractive. Their  children  grew  up  around  them, 
good  and  happy,  cheering  them  by  their  lov- 
ing, grateful  attentions,  and  lives  of  piety  and 
usefulness.  Jane  and  her  husband  preserved  a 
constant  remembrance  of  the  past,  ever  acknow- 
ledging their  obligations  to  those  who  first  taught 
9 


130 


LABOR    AND    LOVE 


i  the  true  worth  of  life,  and  how  to  prize  a 
fcwtst  so  sacred. 

Harriet  Russell,  with  a  spirit  that  did  her 
honor,  threw  off  the  bondage  of  dependence, 
and  accepted  the  office  of  a  teacher,  succeeding 
her  friend  Margaret,  who  retired  when  the  new 
school-room  was  opened.  Harriet  incurred  the 
displeasure  of  Mrs.  (Sharpe,  because  her  heart 
owned  the  worth  and  superiority  of  William 
Herbert,  and  she  had  with  frank  decision  pre- 
ferred him  to  a  poor  conceited  man,  entirely 
absorbed  by  self-love,  and  p<  ing  a  load  of 

lth,  which  he  had  not  sense  enough  to  take 
care  of,  or  devote  to  any  good  purpose.  She 
now  living  with  Mr.  Arnold  and  Margaret. 
The  latter  still  assisted  her  in  the  school,  and 
attended  especially  to  the  training  of  Charlotte 
Herbert  and  Alice  Palmer,  who  were  eventually 
to  be  promoted  to  its  joint  superintendence. 

A  separate  school  for  boy.  was  in  contempla- 
tion. In  this  George  Arnold  was  more  interested 
than  in  any  other  of  his  father's  projects.  He 
now  pursued  his  studies  under  the  care  of 
Alfred,  who  had  gained  Mr.  Arnold's  consent 
to  bear  the  whole  expense  of  George's  educa- 
tion and  preparation  for  the  ministry.  It  was 
the  boy's  highest  aim  to  follow  in  the  steps  of 
his  revered  parent,  who  rejoiced  in  the  contem- 


.A    TALE    OF    ENGLISH    LIFE.  lol 

plation  of  his  son's  future  usefulness,  when  he 
himself  should  rest  from  his  earthly  labors. 

As  Alfred  had  predicted,  Margaret  Elliott 
was  accomplishing  a  glorious  work.  The  crea- 
tions of  her  heaven-directed  mind  were  known 
through  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land,  but 
most  of  all  to  the  homes  and  hearts  of  the  work- 
population.  She  had  attained  the  highest 
eminence  to  which  her  ambition  soared,  —  that 
of  the  friend  and  poet  of  the  people.  Yes,  she 
1  1  heir  friend,  and  continued  her  lov- 
ing services  among  them  as  in  times  of  yore  ; 
vi  iting  their  dwellings,  relieving  their  wants, 
and  breathing  words  of  hope  and  encourage- 
ment, that  brought  gladness  to  many  a  house 
of  sorrow. 

The  Fraternal  Union  was  no  longer  a  trivial 
and  despised  undertaking.  When  it  became 
known  that  the  accomplished  man  of  wealth 
gave  it  the  sanction  of  his  name,  and  so  closely 
allied  himself  with  all  its  interests,  it  assumed  a 
new  aspect  in  the  world's  eye  ;  and  many  who 
had  at  first  scorned  the  humble  efforts  of  the 
good  pastor  and  his  people,  considered  them- 
selves privileged  in  being  admitted  members  of 
this  flourishing  association,  and  gladly  contrib- 
uted to  its  support.  Those,  too,  who  once  look- 
ed with  contempt  upon  the  poor,  unknown  girl, 


132  LABOR    AND    LOVE. 

taken  from  the  lowest  conventional  rank  in  so- 
ciety, now  bowed  to  the  commanding  force  of 
her  genius,  and  felt  honored  by  the  slightest 
token  of  her  regard. 

When  will  men  cease  to  look  only  in  the  high 
places  of  this  world,  for  those  great  ones  who 
guide  ill"  destinies  of  ilieir  race?  Is  the  light 
of  Christianity  i  dim,  that  it  cannot  penetrate 
the  with  which   error  and  prejudice   sur- 

round the  life  of  man?  and  are  we  ever  to  be 
pained  by  the  hearing  of  that  same  significant 
question,  '  Can  any  good  thing  come  out  of 
Nazareth?'  Surely  Christ  has  not  lived  in  vain. 
\  brighter  day  even  now  dawns,  in  whose  in- 
creasing radiance  human'  11  rejoice.  The 
sublime  brotherhood  which  He  taught  must  be 
acknowledged,  and  the  low  earth-born  distinc- 
tion-. •'  t  separate  the  great  family,  become 
annihilated  by  the  power  of  Universal  Love. 


THE    END. 


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